For fans of my drawings

A quick post - I made the garden gare sketch coloured and also post one of "glass castle" sketches here

(*back to investment terminology*)

Back to a little drawing

I haven't drawn anything for ages, but today - it's a long weekend - thanks to day of national unity - I took out wax crayons and a drawing pad...

The first on is a gate and trees from imagination, the second is inspired by a poem, easy to guess, from Mariona Tsvetayeva.

...Я бы хотела жить с Вами
В маленьком городе,
Где вечные сумерки
И вечные колокола.
И в маленькой деревенской гостинице --
Тонкий звон
Старинных часов -- как капельки времени.
И иногда, по вечерам, из какой -- нибудь мансарды
Флейта,
И сам флейтист в окне.
И большие тюльпаны на окнах.
И может быть, Вы бы даже меня любили...
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Посреди комнаты -- огромная изразцовая печка,
На каждом изразце -- картинка:
Роза -- сердце -- корабль. --
А в единственном окне --
Снег, снег, снег.
Вы бы лежали -- каким я Вас люблю: ленивый,
Равнодушный, беспечный.
Изредка резкий треск
Спички.
Папироса горит и гаснет,
И долго -- долго дрожит на ее краю
Серым коротким столбиком -- пепел.
Вам даже лень его стряхивать --
И вся папироса летит в огонь.

10 декабря 1916

Translation:

I'd like to live with You

I'd like to live with You
In a small town,
Where there are eternal twilights
And eternal bells.
And in a small village inn—
The faint chime
Of ancient clocks—like droplets of time.
And sometimes, in the evenings, from some garret—
A flute,
And the flautist himself in the window.

And big tulips in the window-sills.
And maybe,
You would not even love me . . .
In the middle of the room—a huge tiled oven,
On each tile—a small picture:
A rose—a heart—a ship.—
And in the one window—
Snow, snow, snow.
You would lie—thus I love You: idle,
Indifferent, carefree.
Now and then the sharp strike
Of a match.
The cigarette glows and burns down,
And trembles for a long, long time on its edge
In a grey brief pillar—of ash.
You're too lazy even to flick it—
And the whole cigarette flies into the fire.

December 10, 1916

Some time, some day, my lovely child

I made a slide show. For the first time. Using a song with lyrics from Marina Tsvetayeva - it was a poem to her older daughter Ariadna, or Alya, written in hard after-revolution times in 1919. There was a very special bond between them especially that Alya was developed well ahead of her 6 years.

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Just my little tribute to Marina, to express my admiration by her art and personality.

And the poem itself:

АЛЕ

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1

Когда-нибудь, прелестное созданье,

Я стану для тебя воспоминаньем.

Там, в памяти твоей голубоокой,

Затерянным -- так далеко -- далeко.

Забудешь ты мой профиль горбоносый,

И лоб в апофеозе папиросы,

И вечный смех мой, коим всех морочу,

И сотню -- на руке моей рабочей --

Серебряных перстней, -- чердак -- каюту,

Моих бумаг божественную смуту...

Как в страшный год, возвышены Бедою,

Ты -- маленькой была, я -- молодою.

That's the only translation I found thus far, but it hardly does the original any justice:

TO ALYA

One day, pretty creature,

I'll become a memory for you,

There, in your deep memory,

Lost -- so far far away.

You'll forget my hook nosed profile,

And my forehead in the tempest of a cigarette,

And my eternal laughter, annoying you,

--And on my working hand,

a hundred silver rings, -- an attic-cabin*,

Of my heavenly confusion of papers*

Frightening year, reasoned by the sorrow,

You -- were small, I -- was young.