Marina Tsetaeva

***

I – am. You – will be. An abyss between us.
I drink. You thirst. In vain, we try to agree.
Ten years between us, a hundred thousand
Years between us. – God builds no bridges.

Be! – that’s my commandment! Let me pass,
So that my breath doesn’t hinder your growth.
I – am. You – will be. Ten springs from now,
You’ll say: - I am! – and I will say: - once was...


***

Я -- есмь. Ты -- будешь. Между нами -- бездна.
Я пью. Ты жаждешь. Сговориться -- тщетно.
Нас десять лет, нас сто тысячелетий
Разъединяют. -- Бог мостов не строит.

Будь! -- это заповедь моя. Дай -- мимо
Пройти, дыханьем не нарушив роста.
Я -- есмь. Ты -- будешь. Через десять весен
Ты скажешь: -- есмь! -- а я скажу: -- когда-то...





Marina Tsvetaeva, 1918
Translated by Andrey Kneller



Ah, that line..."Bog mostov neh stroh-eet"..."God builds no bridges"....

"ah ya skazhyoo: kogda-tuh"..."and I will say...once was..."

The poem is successful because of all that is unsaid.

It's a poem composed almost entirely of the Unsaid, and aporiae.

The poem is interesting for the way it ceases believing in details and personal tragedy, and recognizes the universal quandary of time, change, the "useless eternal verities."

It's interesting that she (almost exactly) starts the poem with the Russian language version of the Latin QUOD SUM ERIS...which often appeared engraved on rings, on tiny bone skulls in rosaries, and on other sacred paraphernalia designed to make the mortal wearing it, holding it or encountering it totally cognizant of his or her impending death and (ultimately) complete irrelevance to life...of the fact that life itself is a process of continually "passing away"....

And then in Russian the verb "to be" is rarely stated, the predicate nominative relationship is almost always implicit rather than explict...which is why Russian speakers of English tend to drop that out of their sentences so frequently...but the form of "to be" needs to be used here since there is no predicate...

Upon a first reading, one is tempted to see it an abortive love poem or a poem between lovers that once were.

Or it is a poem about two cultures that don't understand each other, two countries, two religions.

It is a poem about forever "missing" that match or bond or understanding.

But rereading it, one is not so sure.

One begins to believe it is the self speaking to the former self or selves, a poem commemorating the mysterious process by which we leave even ourselves constantly...

It is a poem almost deadly serious, almost hilarious.

It is a poem about reality's inevitable streamlining of the individual soul.

It is an image of understanding streamlining itself.

"Bood! Ehtuh zahpuhved mahyah!" "Be! That's my command!"

It is a poem that is a strange sort of anti-prayer.

And it is the exact opposite of self-pity.