The small world
by Marina Tsvetaeva
Children – are the gazes of their timid eyes
And a playful noise of feet on a parquet floor.
Children – are the sun in the cloudy skies,
And the world of hypothesises of science of joy.
There’s the constant mess in their golden curls,
Tender whisper while they go asleep,
And the pieceful pictures of their sheeps, birds,
Which are dozing on walls in nursery.
Children – are the evening on the sofa,
Flashes of the lanterns through the window,
And the Saltan’s fairy tale, read in slow voice,
And about mermaids-sisters in the sea.
Children – are the rest, the instants short,
Near the bed for god a vow reverent,
Children – are the riddles, tender so,
And in those riddles there’s the answer!
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