Like seaweed, like branches of willows Of Malmazonia are your limbs, Thus you did lie in sprays of sea foam And absent-mindedly transfixed Upon the sweet light-golden melons Of diamond and aquamarine The eyes forever semi-open So blue-and-grayish, bluish-green. The waves are just like rabid lions, The arrows of the sun did fly. And from intolerable blueness Too whitish, you did there lie. Behind the back, the desert, somewhere The station Djankoi had to be, And underneath your arm stretched out Melon grew golden quietly. Thus, calm and precious, you lie there, Don't give a glance and do not see, But look - and waves will heave with power, And mountains will be moved to sea. And new moons will in sky be burning, And joyful lions will lie down Under the single downward leaning Of your head beautiful and young. By Marina Tsvetayeva Translated by Ilya Shambat https://sites.google.com/site/ibshambat
