Marina Tsvetaeva. I dressed the table for the six... Я стол накрыл на шестерых...

A Poem by Marina Tsvetaeva. Music by Agni Agnellius.
Марина Цветаева
March 6, 1941
"I dressed the table for the six"
I still convey the word and still
The first one verse I do repeat:
"I dressed the table for the six"...
But seventh one you did forget.
It is not merry for us six.
On faces are the streams of rain...
How could you over such a table
Forget the seventh - seventh one...
It is not merry for the guests,
Idle is pitcher of crystal.
Sad are they all, sad are you too,
But saddest is the one uncalled.
It is not merry and not light.
Ah! You don't drink and do not eat.
How could you have forgotten this?
How could you have erred in the count?
How could you, dared, not understand,
That six (two brothers, the third -
You, with wife, father and mother) there
Are seven - for I'm in this world!
You dressed the table for the six,
But with six the world did not die.
More than the scarecrow midst the live
I want to be a ghost - with (mine),
Yours... Shy just like a thief,
O - never touching but a soul! -
Behind the silverware unmade
I sit as seventh one, uncalled.
At once! I overthrew the glass!
An all that thirsted to be poured -
All salt from eyes, all blood from wounds -
From tablecloth - on the floorboards.
And - there's no coffin! No - parting!
Broken is spell, wakes up the home.
Like death - onto the wedding feast,
I'm - life, that to dinner have come.
...And I still scold, for nobody -
Not brother, husband, son or friend:
You, dressed the table for six souls,
Did not seat me upon the end.
____________________________________
“I set the table for six ...”
I keep changing the first line
And keep changing one word:
"I set the table for six . .."
You forgot one-the seventh.
It is not merry for us six.
On faces are the streams of rain...
How could you over such a table
Forget the seventh - seventh one...
It is not merry for the guests,
Idle is pitcher of crystal.
Sad are they all, sad are you too,
But saddest is the one uncalled.
It is not merry and not light.
Ah! You don't drink and do not eat.
How could you have forgotten this?
How could you have erred in the count?
How could you, how dared you, not understand
That six (two brothers, the third one
You yourself-with your wife, father and mother)
Are seven, since I am in this world!
You set the table for six
But with six the world is not finished.
Rather than a scarecrow among the living -
I want to be a phantom-with your family,
(With mine)... Timid, like a thief,
Oh-not touching a soul!
I sit down at the absent table setting,
The uninvited, the seventh one.
There! I knocked over a glass!
And everything that thirsted to spill out-
All the salt from my eyes, all the blood from my wounds-
From the tablecloth onto the floor.
And there is no grave! There is no separation!
The spell is gone from the table, the house is awakened!
Like death to a wedding feast,
I-life, came to supper.
I am no one: not a brother, not a son, not a husband,
Not a friend-and still I reproach you:
You who set the table for six-souls,
Not seating me-at the edge.
March 6, 1941
Marina Ivanovna Tsvetaeva
(October 8, 1892 - August 31, 1941)
was a Russian poet and writer.