Marina Tsvetaeva: Every Poem is a Child of Love

29 August 2018

Every poem is a child of love,
A destitute bastard chick
A fledgling blown down from the heights above—
Left of its nest? Not a stick.
Each heart has its gulf and its bridge.
Each heart has its blessings and griefs.
Who is the father? A liege?
Maybe a liege, or a thief.

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