Valentines Day poems, written by the famous poet Marina Tsvetaeva, February 14, you can give your loved one.
Marina Tsvetaeva Valentines Day poems About Love
Love – but the meal was still alive.
Find cradled words: Rainy – lavishing all himself coined to their foliage
Rain could be heard: do not flail about sheaf:
Rain on the roof has that to me on the forehead,
running down on the coffin to the forehead dawn,
Chills – subsided, someone to sleep and slept through the … well, say, water leaks. In a series of lie, do not complain, and I Do not Know waiting. (I burn). Cradled the same – but I ask, whether one: not the letter, and the cabin of hands: Uyutami …
Frivolity! – Honey sin
Dear companion and the enemy, my dear,
you are in my eyes vbryznul laughter
and mazurka me vbryznul in veins. Learned not to keep the ring – with whom the life of me nor crowned! Starting at random from the end, and ends before the start. be both stem and be as steel in life where we can … so little – chocolate treat sadness and laugh in the face of passers-by!
Then you throw back his head, and that you are proud liar.
What a fun companion
Brought me this February! Pursued ragamuffins and blowing the smoke slowly, solemn strangers pass native town. Whose hands Berezhnev bathed Your eyelashes, beauty, and what ternovalezhiyam Laurel your Milestone .. .
Do not ask. Those who hunger
overcame my spirit is already a dream.
In your divine boy –
I honor the Ten. Linger by the river, paddling Colored beads lanterns. I will bring you to the area, the type of young men-kings … boyish pain whistle, And my heart is clamped in a handful .. . My cold-blooded, my frantic Freedman – sorry!
I like that you’re sick is not me,
I like that I’m sick of you not
that they never heavy globe
not drift away beneath our feet.
I like that you can be funny –
promiscuity – and not play with words,
And not blush suffocating wave,
Lightly touched sleeves. I like it that you are with me calmly hug another, I would not mind in hell fire Burn, because I did not kiss you. What name my tender, my gentle, does not mention any day or night – in vain. .. That never in the church silence They will sing over us: Hallelujah! Thank you heart and hand Because you got me – not knowing it! – So dislike for my peaceful nights, For the rarity of seeing sunsets, For our non-festivals under the sun, for the sun, not above our heads – Because you’re sick – alas! – Not me, Because I am sick – alas! – Not you!
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