My dream of yesterday I'm calling
under caress of a plush plaid,
What was that? And who won? Who's falling?
Who was defeated? What is bad?
I think again, I change my thinking,
Anew I feel the sweetest pain,
Say, was it love of just a winking,
I have no word for it again.
Who was the prey? Who was the hunter?
All is contrary, it is mad,
Siberian cat has got it under
that caress plaid.
Who, whose hand was the ball in
in our duel of self-win?
Oh, say, your heart or mine was rolling
and bouncing real.
So, do I want it, do I need it?
What did it show?
Say, did I win? Was I defeated?
I do not know.
P.S. This is my translation of poem by Marina Tsvetaeva