Translation of Poem by Marina Tsvetaeva, Марина Цветаева, "Четвёртый год..." GOING ON FOUR

                                                                Ice Floes on Ob' River

Марина Цветаева

(1892-1941)

Четвёртый год...

Четвёртый год.
Глаза, как лёд,
Брови уже роковые,
Сегодня впервые
С кремлёвских высот
Наблюдаешь ты
Ледоход.

Льдины, льдины
И купола.
Звон золотой,
Серебряный звон.
Руки скрещены,
Рот нем.
Брови сдвинув — Наполеон! —
Ты созерцаешь — Кремль.

— Мама, куда — лёд идёт?
— Вперёд, лебедёнок.
Мимо дворцов, церквей, ворот —
Вперёд, лебедёнок!

Синий
Взор — озабочен.
— Ты меня любишь, Марина?
— Очень.
— Навсегда?
— Да.

Скоро — закат,
Скоро — назад:
Тебе — в детскую, мне —
Письма читать дерзкие,
Кусать рот.

А лёд
Всё
Идёт.

March 24, 1916

 

 

Literal Translation

Three years old [literally: into the fourth year].

Eyes like ice,

Eyebrows already lethal.

Today for the first time

From the heights of the Kremlin

You look down on

The flow of the ice.

 

Ice floes, ice floes,

And cupolas of churches.

A peal of gold,

A silvery peal.

Arms crossed,

Mouth mute.

You’ve furrowed your brow: Napoleon!

You contemplate: the Kremlin.

 

Mama, where does the ice go?

Onward, my little swan.

Past the palaces, churches, gates;

Onward, my little swan!

 

Blue-eyed

Gaze—troubled.

Do you love me, Marina?

Very much.

For all time?

Yes.

 

Soon comes the sundown,

Soon we go back:

You to the nursery, and me—

To read impertinent letters,

To bite my lips.

 

And the ice

Keeps

Flowing.

 

d

 

Literary Translation/Adaptation by U.R. Bowie

 

Going on Four

 

Three years old.

Eyes like ice.

Eyebrows deadly bold.

Today the first time in your life

You stand on Kremlin heights

And watch, behold

The ice-blocks flow.

 

Ice floes, ice floes flow

And cupolas of churches.

Peals of gold that glow,

And silvery peals in arches.

Arms crossed on chest,

Mouth mute.

A furrowed brow: Napoleon!

As he contemplates the Kremlin.

 

Mama, where does the ice go?

Onward, little swan of mine,

Past palaces, churches, stately gates;

Onward, little swan of mine!

 

Blue-eyed

Gaze is troubled.

Do you love me, Marina?

Very much.

For ever and all time?

I do.

 

Soon will come the sundown,

Soon we’ll head back home-bound:

You to the nursery, and me—

To read insolent letters

While biting my lips testily.

 

As the ice floes

Flow,

Flow on.

 

d

 

Note

Poem addressed to Marina Tsvetaeva’s daughter, Ariadna Sergeevna Efron (1912-1975)