Немного поэзии. Марина Цветаева в переводе на английский язык (работа моя). These lines are to my early works, Then didn’t I know that I'm a poetess, They flared like sparks of fireworks, Like sparkles from the jets, They raided as though little demons The sanctum full of incense, hush, My poems of the youth and grievance – They weren’t like a gold rush! They’re scattered dusty in the stalls Where none of them receives a crumb, My poems are like vintage wines, Their time will come.