From 'Some ancestor of mine' 1915 - Marina Tsvetayeva (1892-1941)

Marina Tsvetayeva (1892-1941)

From 'Some ancestor of mine' 1915

Translated by Elaine Feinstein

His soul was sold for a farthing,

so he did not walk at midnight

in the cemetery. He may have worn

a knife tucked in his boot.

Perhaps he pounced round corners

like a sinuous cat.

I wonder suddenly: did

he even play the violin?

I know nothing mattered to him

any more than last year's snow.

That's what he was like, my ancestor.

And that's the kind of poet I am.

From 'Some ancestor of mine' 1915

Translated by Elaine Feinstein