Перевод Марины Цветаевой Вереницею певчих свай...

By the long string of singing piles,
Propping up the Empyrean,
I am sending you my chyles
And my earthly dust.
Hesperian
Sighs – along wires on a morning dew –
Telegraph says: I-lov-love you...

I implore you ... (a painting canvas
Would not hold! A wire is easier!)
These are piles, on which Atlas
Have lowered the race area, breezier,
Of the celestials...
In the sky
Telegraph says you: g-oo-oodbye ...

Do you hear? It`s the last heave
Of my hoarse throat: for-gi-ive me...
This is the fishing gear that I weave
Across the Atlantic ocean, feel it.

Higher, higher – it’s a st-ack
Ariadne says: co–come-back

Turn around! Costless obits
Cried plaintively: don`t hate us!
These are protracting steel spits,
They speak with the voice of Hades

Disappearing.. it`s so sad
And imploring: it`s too bad ...

Spare me! (This chorus – can a seer
Distinguish it?) With that death tizzy
And my passion soul`s fear –
Tale of Orpheus and Eurydice

Through embankments – and – dead ditches
Eurydice says: those – were – glitches

Don`t g –