I’m neither an impostor nor a guest!
I’m not the maid! I am your seventh
Day, your longed-for Sunday’s rest,
Your passion and your seventh heaven!
On earth, they wouldn’t offer me a dime,
Hung millstones on my neck to spite me.
My love! Do you not recognize me? I’m
Your little bird, your swallow – Psyche!
April 1918
By Marina Tsvetaeva
Translation by Andrey Kneller
Maverick Mist 