Lyudmila Purgina

Freshman - 597 Points (Russian Federation)

M.Tsvetaeva, The Young Grove... - Translation (Rus.) - Poem by Lyudmila Purgina

The young grove was cut totally
By a lumberman - it's life.
What was thought by God primordially -
Then man tackled to recast.

And the grove is now - not waving,
Everywhere - the rusty stubs.
In the voices of my natives
I hear your voice, alien, dark.

And is looming to me as circles,
Mystic circles of your eyes.
- We're for sure - the indissoluble,
Indissoluble foes thus.

20 Aug 1917


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Poem Submitted: Wednesday, July 31, 2013

Poem Edited: Thursday, August 1, 2013


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