Marina Ivanovna Tsvetaeva
These are ashes of treasures:
Of hurt and loss.
These are ashes in face of which
Granite is dross.
Dove, naked and brilliant,
It has no mate.
Over vanity that's great.
Time's menacing chalkmark,
Not to be overthrown.
Means God knocks at the door
-- Once the house has burned down!
Not choked yet by refuse,
Days' and dreams' conqueror.
Like a thunderbolt -- Spirit
Of early grey hair.
It's not you who've betrayed me
On the home front, years.
This grey is the triumph
Of immortal powers.
Marina Ivanovna Tsvetaeva's Other Poems
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
Comments about this poem (Grey Hairs by Marina Ivanovna Tsvetaeva )
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Still I Rise
Edgar Allan Poe
Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening
I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings
William Ernest Henley
- Barbaric Veneer Layered History Of This .., Terence G. Craddock
- An Unreal World, Sandra Feldman
- Indifference Sows Consequences, Terence G. Craddock
- I am Instant, saint cynosure ( Ken Bennigh ..
- Shake Loose my Skin, Angela Khristin Brown
- A World of Lies, Hebert Logerie
- Fenced In To Be Viewed, Lawrence S. Pertillar
- Eid 2014, mazHur Butt
- Going Mad, Is It Poetry
- My Tears Dry On Their Own, Mpho Tsakata