Marina Tsvetaeva
(1892-1941)
Мне нравится, что Вы больны не мной,
Мне нравится, что я больна не Вами,
Что никогда тяжелый шар земной
Не уплывет под нашими ногами.
Мне нравится, что можно быть смешной -
Распущенной - и не играть словами,
И не краснеть удушливой волной,
Слегка соприкоснувшись рукавами.
Мне нравится еще, что Вы при мне
Спокойно обнимаете другую,
Не прочите мне в адовом огне
Гореть за то, что я не Вас целую.
Что имя нежное мое, мой нежный, не
Упоминаете ни днем ни ночью - всуе...
Что никогда в церковной тишине
Не пропоют над нами: аллилуйя!
Спасибо Вам и сердцем и рукой
За то, что Вы меня - не зная сами! -
Так любите: за мой ночной покой,
За редкость встреч закатными часами,
За наши не-гулянья под луной,
За солнце не у нас над головами,
За то, что Вы больны - увы! - не мной,
За то, что я больна - увы! - не Вами.
3 мая 1915
Literary Translation/Adaptation by U.R. Bowie
The Unjoys of Nonlove
I’m glad that you’re not indisposed with feelings steeped in me.
I’m glad that I’m not indisposed with feelings steeped in you.
That never will earth’s gravid sphere float free
Beneath our giddy footsteps specked with dew.
I’m glad that we can laugh capriciously,
Light-minded be, un-vexed by words we’d rue,
That when our sleeves might touch haphazardly,
We need not wince, emotions wrenched askew.
Glad too am I that you before my eyes
Can flirt, caress, arrange a rendezvous,
And wish me not in hell to agonize
If I throw kisses to the winds, but not a one to you.
My name, my tender name, O light of my tender eye,
Take not in vain, to our non-love be true,
I’m glad that never will a church hush solemnize
Our marriage vows, that lofty-soft and sanctified “I do.”
I thank you in my heart, effusively,
For—unbeknownst to you!—so loving me,
For my nocturnal calm, tranquility,
For oh-so-rare that seldomness of meetings secretly,
For non-walks under moonlight near the sea,
For sunshine never sparkling on our lea.
I’m glad (alas) that you’re not sick, with feelings steeped in me.
I’m glad that I’m not sick (alack), with feelings steeped in thee.
Translator’s Note
This poem is dedicated to Mavriky Aleksandrovich Mints (1886-1917), an engineer from Poland, educated in European universities, who, very shortly after the poem was written, became the husband of Marina Tsvetaeva’s sister Anastasia. The poem, both metered (iambic pentameter) and rhymed, is untitled in the original; the title above is the translator’s. While true to the meaning of the original, the translation is free.
Judging by Anastasia’s reminiscences, her unofficial marriage to Mints, though short-lived, was full of joy and happiness. They never married legally, as he was Jewish and his mother insisted on his marrying a Jewish woman, but they began living together in the autumn of 1915. In the terrible year of 1917, when all was in turmoil over the war and the coming revolutions, Mints suddenly died of peritonitis, followed shortly by their only child, one-year-old Alyosha.
In the seventies Mikael Tariverdiev (1931-1996), a prominent Soviet composer of Armenian descent, set the words of the poem to music.
Performed in the Russian romantic comedy, “The Irony of Fate, or Enjoy Your Bath” (“Ирония судьбы, или с легким паром”), the song became extremely popular in Russia. The film, perhaps the most beloved Soviet movie ever made, was released at the very end of the year 1975. It has now become a cult classic, shown on Russian television on December 31 every year and watched by the whole country.
Barbara Brylska, a Polish actress, lip-syncs the song in the film, and for years many assumed that she was singing it. But the voice behind the lip-sync is Alla Pugacheva, still young in 1975, but later to become one of the most renowned of Soviet pop singers. The song omits Tsvetaeva’s second stanza.
