Russian Poets Collected Translations

Marina Tsvetaeva. “I am. You- will be.”

I am. You- will be. There’s a gap between us.
I drink. You’re- thirsty. No room for bargains.
Ten years, like a hundred thousand years,
Divide us. God provided no crossings.

“Be,” I command, and let me
Pass by you breathlessly
Not violating growth.

I am. You- will be. Ten springs down the road,
You’ll say, “I am,”
And I will say, “I used to…”
_________________________________________________

A. Tarkovsky. The Portrait

No one’s with me at all.
There’s a portrait on the wall

Of the old hag, her blind eyes
Are walked on by flies,
                flies,
                flies.

“Are you happy,” so I ask,
“In your heaven, under glass?”

A fly is streaming down the cheek,
The hag answers with the wink,

“As you’re sitting in your home,
Are you happy there, alone?”


    ***
А. Тарковский. "Портрет"

Никого со мною нет.
На стене висит портрет.

По слепым глазам старухи
Ходят мухи,
          мухи,
               мухи.

Хорошо ли, - говорю, -
Под стеклом твоём в раю?

По щеке сползает муха,
Отвечает мне старуха:

- А тебе в твоём дому
Хорошо ли одному?
_______________________________________
A. Tarkovsky. Being as proud

Being as proud as I used to be
I’d leave forever, just letting you be.
Leaving behind what I easily drop,
Leaving behind what I never forget,
Everything- splitting my kingdom apart.

I would agree that you take as you go
Hundreds of kisses and of holidays, hundreds
Of words. You can take them with you.
What am I left with? The coldest of dawns,
Hundreds of late, after hours trains
And hundreds of raindrops that run after you.
A hundred of streets and a hundred of courts
Washed by a hundred of raindrops on tracks.


А. Тарковский. "Если б, как прежде, я был горделив"
__________________________________________________

Boris Pasternak. Caution: Wet Paint

Ignoring words “Don’t touch! Wet paint!”
Stepped in my careless soul,
And now the memory is stained
With hands, and lips, and soles.

Amid all troubles, in dismay
I loved you with such might
Because with you the yellowish world
Became the painter’s white.

And, oh, my darkness, my soul-mate,
One day it’ll move ahead
To be as white as your lampshade
Or my bandaged forehead.


***
Борис Пастернак
 
         НЕ ТРОГАТЬ
"Не трогать, свежевыкрашен",-
    Душа не береглась,
И память - в пятнах икр и щек,
    И рук, и губ, и глаз.

Я больше всех удач и бед
    За то тебя любил,
Что пожелтелый белый свет
    С тобой - белей белил.

И мгла моя, мой друг, божусь,
    Он станет как-нибудь
Белей, чем бред, чем абажур,
    Чем белый бинт на лбу!