Marina Tsvetaeva once compared herself to a tree, into which all lightning falls. Long-term separation from Russia, poverty and heavy "stop life." Loneliness - that in emigration, that "at home," where, by a tragic coincidence, it fell to her to return to the era of "great terror" and survive the arrest of her husband and daughter, whom she never saw again. But despite everything experienced, Tsvetaeva's poems, according to one critic, "radiate love and are permeated with love... are eager for peace and sort of trying to get the whole world into arms. "