The many fallen ones into the deepest...
by Marina Tsvetaeva
The many fallen ones into the deepest
One of these days I’ll also vanish, guiltless,
From earthly living bliss
And all things then shall stall – the song and struggle
That shone from me and tore
The greenest eyes, the tender voice shall crumble;
The golden hair I wore
But life will carry on as nothing happened
(Its daily cares and needs)
Oblivious of me who under heaven
A life once lived and breathed!
So playful that I was in childish whimsy
And none too long was cross;
I that so loved of even hearth when, flimsy,
The wood would turn to floss
The cello and the horseback ride in forest
The tolling bell loved I …
Alive and real, with all my soul put foremost –
Good earth, why should I die!
To you I speak now, strange or friendly people
– I never tempered was –
And I demand of you some faith in keeping
But love of you I ask
Both day and night, in writing or in speaking:
Do love my gritty truth;
Do love me for my sadness often creeping;
For twenty years of youth
For that I never had a qualm, forgiving
Offences or ill use;
For all my boundless tenderness in living
And haughtiness in looks
For action swift and fell, for dashing valour
For truth, for play … oh my!
And listen! One more thing: do love me ever
For that I’ll have to die
Poem originally published in 1913
About the Author:
Marina Tsvetaeva (8 October 1892 – 31 August 1941) was a Russian poet.