Sibyl: burnt out, sibyl: stump.

All birds perished, but God has come.

Sibyl: drunk up, sibyl: waste.

All veins shriveled: the zealot prays!

Sibyl: has-been, Sybil: gape

Of fate and death — Ancient tree among maids.

Sovereign tree in the naked wood —

At first, fire rustled as foliage should.

Then under closed eyelids — rushed and stunned,

Through dried-up channels God spewed in.

And, swiftly despairing of outside help:

With heart and voice fallen: into myself!

Sibyl: all-seeing! Sibyl: vast!

Annunciation was done in that

Immortal hour, when grass turned gray,

And fleeting maidenhood became a cave

Of wondrous voice…

                        A whoosh of stars —

Sibyl: as she quits this earth.

   – Marina Tsvetaeva, “Sibyl”

      (Translation © Alyssa Dinega Gillespie)