Marina Tsvetaeva - The Poems Grow Like Stars

The poems grow like stars, or roses,
Like beauty useless in the family;
For endings or apotheosis
I do not claim authority.

We dream, and through the plates of stone -
A heavens’ guest with syllables;
Admit: the poets in their dreams
See clues to things insoluble.

1918/2010










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Стихи растут, как звезды и как розы


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