Here again a window
Where again they don’t sleep.
Maybe – they’re drinking wine,
Maybe – they just sit.
Or, perhaps, – the hands
Two won’t separate.
Friend, in every house
There is such a window.
A cry of separations
And brief rendezvous-
You, a window in the night!
Maybe – hundreds of candles,
Maybe – three of them…
There is no and no rest
To my reckless mind.
And my house too
Has got such a window.
Pray, friend, for the sleepless house,
For the lighted window!
(traducción de http://www.oocities.org/erdenechimegb/Marina_Tsvetaeva.html)
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