Poetry translation(M. Tsvetayeva)

I’m simple in my manners, My shelter’s poor and plain, Because I ‘m one of dwellers From isles far away. I live – nobody’s needed! You’ve come –my nights turn white. To make hot meal and feed you I’ll burn my house out. You’ve glanced – so you are known, You‘ve come - with me reside. We follow simple laws: Were written they in blood. The moon will we ensnare In palm – if we do whim! You left – so you‘ve been never, And I have never been. I look at knife wound stretching: Will it have time to close, Before the first met stranger Begs me: I die of thirst.