Wires

Des Herzen Woge schäumte nicht so schön empor, und würde Geist, wenn nicht der alte stumme Fels, das Schicksal, ihr entgegenstände.

1.

In a row of singing pillars, 

Supporting the Empyrean,

I send to you my share

Of the dale dust.

Along the alley

of sighs—with a wire to a pole—

A telegraphic: I lo—o—ve…

I plead… (a printed blank

Won’t fit it! It is simpler with wires!)

These are pillars, on them Atlas

Lowered a race track

Of Olympian gods…

Along the pillars

A telegraphic fa—are—well…

Do you hear? This is the last breakdown

Of a torn throat: fa—are—well…

These are ringing above a sea of fields,

The quiet Atlantic path:

Higher, higher—and we mer—ged

In Ariadne’s: re—turn,

Turn around!… The Melancholy

Of charity hospitals: I won’t get out!

In the farewells of steel wires

Are the voices of Hades

Moving away… Conjuring

The distance: pi—ty…

Pity me! (In the chorus will you notice

It?) In the death rattle

Of Obstinate passions is

The breath of Eurydice:

Through mounds and ditches

Eurydice’s: a—a—las,

Don’t lea—

Marina Tsvetaeva (After Russia)