(8 October 1892 – 31 August 1941 / Moscow)

Much Like Me

Much like me, you make your way forward,
Walking with downturned eyes.
Well, I too kept mine lowered.
Passer-by, stop here, please.

Read, when you've picked your nosegay
Of henbane and poppy flowers,
That I was once called Marina,
And discover how old I was.

Don't think that there's any grave here,
Or that I'll come and throw you out ...
I myself was too much given
To laughing when one ought not.

The blood hurtled to my complexion,
My curls wound in flourishes ...
I was, passer-by, I existed!
Passer-by, stop here, please.

And take, pluck a stem of wildness,
The fruit that comes with its fall --
It's true that graveyard strawberries
Are the biggest and sweetest of all.

All I care is that you don't stand there,
Dolefully hanging your head.
Easily about me remember,
Easily about me forget.

How rays of pure light suffuse you!
A golden dust wraps you round ...
And don't let it confuse you,
My voice from under the ground.

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Other poems of MARINA IVANOVNA TSVETAEVA (29)

Comments (3)

A very cunning and interesting poem to entertain through reciting and meaning such emotional.
Interesting poem. Poet doesn't want some body like her, pleading passerby please stop here. Her advise is of taking charge. time makes us all wise!
this is really a cunning poem... don't stop by O passer-by. nice poem