Translation:Your name is a finch in my hand ...

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Your name is a finch in my hand, A small bit of ice on tongue’s end One movement of lips slightly stirred, Your name is a four-letter word A marble right-caught in mid-air, A silvery tinkle of bells at a fair

A stone cast in a placid pond Will snort in the likeness of family bond As light as the clip-clop of horses’ hoofs, As loud as the cling-clang of steel-shod hoofs ... The dry-click of firing-pin at our head Will sharply recall as your name is said

Your name is like – that I say not! It’s like a kiss on the eyes wrought When shut, they are laden with frosty grace … Your name is like kissing a snow-swept glaze A draught of cool blue from a spring-cleft rock, Your name grants deep sleep around the clock

Стихи_к_Блоку_(Цветаева)/1