Poem for Blok | Marina Tsvetaeva, 1916

Alexander Blok, 1880-1921

Your name is a — bird in my hand,
a piece of ice on my tongue.
The lips’ quick opening.
Your name — five letters.
A ball caught in flight,
a silver bell in my mouth.

A stone thrown into a silent lake
is — the sound of your name.
The light click of hooves at night
— your name.
Your name at my temple
— shrill click of a cocked gun.

Your name — impossible —
kiss on my eyes,
the chill of closed eyelids.
Your name — a kiss of snow.
Blue gulp of icy spring water.
With your name — sleep deepens.

April 15, 1916