Π¦Π²Π΅ΡΠ°Π΅Π²Π° ΠΌΠ½Π΅ Π½ΡΠ°Π²ΠΈΡΡΡ ΡΡΠΎ Π²Ρ Π±ΠΎΠ»ΡΠ½Ρ Π½Π΅ ΠΌΠ½ΠΎΠΉ Π½Π° Π°Π½Π³Π»ΠΈΠΉΡΠΊΠΎΠΌ ΡΠ·ΡΠΊΠ΅
«I like the fact. «
ΠΠ½Π΅ Π½ΡΠ°Π²ΠΈΡΡΡ, ΡΡΠΎ ΠΡ Π±ΠΎΠ»ΡΠ½Ρ Π½Π΅ ΠΌΠ½ΠΎΠΉ,
ΠΠ½Π΅ Π½ΡΠ°Π²ΠΈΡΡΡ, ΡΡΠΎ Ρ Π±ΠΎΠ»ΡΠ½Π° Π½Π΅ ΠΠ°ΠΌΠΈ,
Π§ΡΠΎ Π½ΠΈΠΊΠΎΠ³Π΄Π° ΡΡΠΆΠ΅Π»ΡΠΉ ΡΠ°Ρ Π·Π΅ΠΌΠ½ΠΎΠΉ
ΠΠ΅ ΡΠΏΠ»ΡΠ²Π΅Ρ ΠΏΠΎΠ΄ Π½Π°ΡΠΈΠΌΠΈ Π½ΠΎΠ³Π°ΠΌΠΈ.
Π Π½Π΅ ΠΊΡΠ°ΡΠ½Π΅ΡΡ ΡΠ΄ΡΡΠ»ΠΈΠ²ΠΎΠΉ Π²ΠΎΠ»Π½ΠΎΠΉ,
Π‘Π»Π΅Π³ΠΊΠ° ΡΠΎΠΏΡΠΈΠΊΠΎΡΠ½ΡΠ²ΡΠΈΡΡ ΡΡΠΊΠ°Π²Π°ΠΌΠΈ.
ΠΠ½Π΅ Π½ΡΠ°Π²ΠΈΡΡΡ Π΅ΡΠ΅, ΡΡΠΎ ΠΡ ΠΏΡΠΈ ΠΌΠ½Π΅
Π‘ΠΏΠΎΠΊΠΎΠΉΠ½ΠΎ ΠΎΠ±Π½ΠΈΠΌΠ°Π΅ΡΠ΅ Π΄ΡΡΠ³ΡΡ,
ΠΠ΅ ΠΏΡΠΎΡΠΈΡΠ΅ ΠΌΠ½Π΅ Π² Π°Π΄ΠΎΠ²ΠΎΠΌ ΠΎΠ³Π½Π΅
ΠΠΎΡΠ΅ΡΡ Π·Π° ΡΠΎ, ΡΡΠΎ Ρ Π½Π΅ ΠΠ°Ρ ΡΠ΅Π»ΡΡ.
Π§ΡΠΎ ΠΈΠΌΡ Π½Π΅ΠΆΠ½ΠΎΠ΅ ΠΌΠΎΠ΅, ΠΌΠΎΠΉ Π½Π΅ΠΆΠ½ΡΠΉ, Π½Π΅
Π§ΡΠΎ Π½ΠΈΠΊΠΎΠ³Π΄Π° Π² ΡΠ΅ΡΠΊΠΎΠ²Π½ΠΎΠΉ ΡΠΈΡΠΈΠ½Π΅
ΠΠ΅ ΠΏΡΠΎΠΏΠΎΡΡ Π½Π°Π΄ Π½Π°ΠΌΠΈ: Π°Π»Π»ΠΈΠ»ΡΠΉΡ!
Π‘ΠΏΠ°ΡΠΈΠ±ΠΎ ΠΠ°ΠΌ ΠΈ ΡΠ΅ΡΠ΄ΡΠ΅ΠΌ ΠΈ ΡΡΠΊΠΎΠΉ
Π’Π°ΠΊ Π»ΡΠ±ΠΈΡΠ΅: Π·Π° ΠΌΠΎΠΉ Π½ΠΎΡΠ½ΠΎΠΉ ΠΏΠΎΠΊΠΎΠΉ,
ΠΠ° ΡΠ΅Π΄ΠΊΠΎΡΡΡ Π²ΡΡΡΠ΅Ρ Π·Π°ΠΊΠ°ΡΠ½ΡΠΌΠΈ ΡΠ°ΡΠ°ΠΌΠΈ,
ΠΠ° Π½Π°ΡΠΈ Π½Π΅-Π³ΡΠ»ΡΠ½ΡΡ ΠΏΠΎΠ΄ Π»ΡΠ½ΠΎΠΉ,
ΠΠ° ΡΠΎΠ»Π½ΡΠ΅ Π½Π΅ Ρ Π½Π°Ρ Π½Π° Π³ΠΎΠ»ΠΎΠ²Π°ΠΌΠΈ,
I like the fact that youβre not mad about me,
I like the fact that Iβm not mad for you,
And that the globe of planet earth is grounded
And will not drift away beneath our shoes.
I like the fact that I can laugh here loudly,
Not play with words, feel unabashed and loose,
And never flush with stifling waves above me
When we brush sleeves, and not seek an excuse.
I like the fact that you donβt feel ashamed
As you, before my eyes, embrace another,
I like the fact that I will not be damned
To hell for kissing someone else with ardor,
That you would never use my tender name
In vain, that in the silence of the churchβs towers,
Weβll never get to hear the sweet refrain
Of hallelujahs sung somewhere above us.
With both my heart and hand, I thank you proudly
You loved me so: and for my sleeping soundly,
And for the lack of twilight rendezvous,
No moonlit walks with your two arms around me,
No sun above our heads or skies of blue,
ΠΠ°ΡΠΈΠ½Π° Π¦Π²Π΅ΡΠ°Π΅Π²Π° ΠΠ½Π΅ ΠΡΠ°Π²ΠΈΡΡΡ English
It pleases me that I am not your hurt,
It pleases me that you are not my illness,
That as we step upon the heavy Earth,
Its solidness shall never drift beneath us.
It pleases me that I donβt have to flirt,
That I can be relaxed and wordplay-needless,
In suffocating blush not feeling stirred
By accidental touch or random glimpses.
It pleases me as well that when we meet,
You would embrace another one serenely,
That you donβt fantasize of Hellish heat
Consuming me for kissing someone keenly,
That my sweet name will not emerge, my sweet,
From your fair lips β in vain! β come day or evening,
And in a silent temple, brightly lit,
Weβll never wed to Hallelujah singing.
ΠΠ½Π΅ Π½ΡΠ°Π²ΠΈΡΡΡ, ΡΡΠΎ ΠΡ Π±ΠΎΠ»ΡΠ½Ρ Π½Π΅ ΠΌΠ½ΠΎΠΉ,
ΠΠ½Π΅ Π½ΡΠ°Π²ΠΈΡΡΡ, ΡΡΠΎ Ρ Π±ΠΎΠ»ΡΠ½Π° Π½Π΅ ΠΠ°ΠΌΠΈ,
Π§ΡΠΎ Π½ΠΈΠΊΠΎΠ³Π΄Π° ΡΡΠΆΠ΅Π»ΡΠΉ ΡΠ°Ρ Π·Π΅ΠΌΠ½ΠΎΠΉ
ΠΠ΅ ΡΠΏΠ»ΡΠ²Π΅Ρ ΠΏΠΎΠ΄ Π½Π°ΡΠΈΠΌΠΈ Π½ΠΎΠ³Π°ΠΌΠΈ.
ΠΠ½Π΅ Π½ΡΠ°Π²ΠΈΡΡΡ, ΡΡΠΎ ΠΌΠΎΠΆΠ½ΠΎ Π±ΡΡΡ ΡΠΌΠ΅ΡΠ½ΠΎΠΉ
Π Π°ΡΠΏΡΡΠ΅Π½Π½ΠΎΠΉ-ΠΈ Π½Π΅ ΠΈΠ³ΡΠ°ΡΡ ΡΠ»ΠΎΠ²Π°ΠΌΠΈ,
Π Π½Π΅ ΠΊΡΠ°ΡΠ½Π΅ΡΡ ΡΠ΄ΡΡΠ»ΠΈΠ²ΠΎΠΉ Π²ΠΎΠ»Π½ΠΎΠΉ,
Π‘Π»Π΅Π³ΠΊΠ° ΡΠΎΠΏΡΠΈΠΊΠΎΡΠ½ΡΠ²ΡΠΈΡΡ ΡΡΠΊΠ°Π²Π°ΠΌΠΈ.
ΠΠ½Π΅ Π½ΡΠ°Π²ΠΈΡΡΡ Π΅ΡΠ΅, ΡΡΠΎ ΠΡ ΠΏΡΠΈ ΠΌΠ½Π΅
Π‘ΠΏΠΎΠΊΠΎΠΉΠ½ΠΎ ΠΎΠ±Π½ΠΈΠΌΠ°Π΅ΡΠ΅ Π΄ΡΡΠ³ΡΡ,
ΠΠ΅ ΠΏΡΠΎΡΠΈΡΠ΅ ΠΌΠ½Π΅ Π² Π°Π΄ΠΎΠ²ΠΎΠΌ ΠΎΠ³Π½Π΅
ΠΠΎΡΠ΅ΡΡ Π·Π° ΡΠΎ, ΡΡΠΎ Ρ Π½Π΅ ΠΠ°Ρ ΡΠ΅Π»ΡΡ.
Π§ΡΠΎ ΠΈΠΌΡ Π½Π΅ΠΆΠ½ΠΎΠ΅ ΠΌΠΎΠ΅, ΠΌΠΎΠΉ Π½Π΅ΠΆΠ½ΡΠΉ, Π½Π΅
Π£ΠΏΠΎΠΌΠΈΠ½Π°Π΅ΡΠ΅ Π½ΠΈ Π΄Π½Π΅ΠΌ Π½ΠΈ Π½ΠΎΡΡΡ β Π²ΡΡΠ΅.
Π§ΡΠΎ Π½ΠΈΠΊΠΎΠ³Π΄Π° Π² ΡΠ΅ΡΠΊΠΎΠ²Π½ΠΎΠΉ ΡΠΈΡΠΈΠ½Π΅
ΠΠ΅ ΠΏΡΠΎΠΏΠΎΡΡ Π½Π°Π΄ Π½Π°ΠΌΠΈ: Π°Π»Π»ΠΈΠ»ΡΠΉΡ!
Π‘ΠΏΠ°ΡΠΈΠ±ΠΎ ΠΠ°ΠΌ ΠΈ ΡΠ΅ΡΠ΄ΡΠ΅ΠΌ ΠΈ ΡΡΠΊΠΎΠΉ
ΠΠ° ΡΠΎ, ΡΡΠΎ ΠΡ ΠΌΠ΅Π½Ρ β Π½Π΅ Π·Π½Π°Ρ ΡΠ°ΠΌΠΈ! β
Π’Π°ΠΊ Π»ΡΠ±ΠΈΡΠ΅: Π·Π° ΠΌΠΎΠΉ Π½ΠΎΡΠ½ΠΎΠΉ ΠΏΠΎΠΊΠΎΠΉ,
ΠΠ° ΡΠ΅Π΄ΠΊΠΎΡΡΡ Π²ΡΡΡΠ΅Ρ Π·Π°ΠΊΠ°ΡΠ½ΡΠΌΠΈ ΡΠ°ΡΠ°ΠΌΠΈ,
ΠΠ° Π½Π°ΡΠΈ Π½Π΅-Π³ΡΠ»ΡΠ½ΡΡ ΠΏΠΎΠ΄ Π»ΡΠ½ΠΎΠΉ,
ΠΠ° ΡΠΎΠ»Π½ΡΠ΅ Π½Π΅ Ρ Π½Π°Ρ Π½Π° Π³ΠΎΠ»ΠΎΠ²Π°ΠΌΠΈ,
ΠΠ° ΡΠΎ, ΡΡΠΎ ΠΡ Π±ΠΎΠ»ΡΠ½Ρ β ΡΠ²Ρ! β Π½Π΅ ΠΌΠ½ΠΎΠΉ,
ΠΠ° ΡΠΎ, ΡΡΠΎ Ρ Π±ΠΎΠ»ΡΠ½Π° β ΡΠ²Ρ! β Π½Π΅ ΠΠ°ΠΌΠΈ.
Marina Tsvetaeva
I like it that you`re burning not for me.
I like it that you’re burning not for me,
I like it that it’s not for you I’m burning
And that the heavy sphere of Planet Earth
Will underneath our feet no more be turning
I like it that I can be unabashed
And humorous and not to play with words
And not to redden with a smothering wave
When with my sleeves I’m lightly touching yours.
I like it, that before my very eyes
You calmly hug another; it is well
That for me also kissing someone else
You will not threaten me with flames of hell.
That this my tender name, not day nor night,
You will recall again, my tender love;
That never in the silence of the church
They will sing Β«halleluiahΒ» us above.
With this my heart and this my hand I thank
You that β although you don’t know it β
You love me thus; and for my peaceful nights
And for rare meetings in the hour of sunset,
That we aren’t walking underneath the moon,
That sun is not above our heads this morning,
That you β alas β are burning not for me
And that β alas β it’s not for you I’m burning.
Translated by Ilya Shambat
ΠΠ°ΡΠΈΠ½Π° Π¦Π²Π΅ΡΠ°Π΅Π²Π°
ΠΠ½Π΅ Π½ΡΠ°Π²ΠΈΡΡΡ, ΡΡΠΎ ΠΡ Π±ΠΎΠ»ΡΠ½Ρ Π½Π΅ ΠΌΠ½ΠΎΠΉ.
ΠΠ½Π΅ Π½ΡΠ°Π²ΠΈΡΡΡ, ΡΡΠΎ ΠΡ Π±ΠΎΠ»ΡΠ½Ρ Π½Π΅ ΠΌΠ½ΠΎΠΉ,
ΠΠ½Π΅ Π½ΡΠ°Π²ΠΈΡΡΡ, ΡΡΠΎ Ρ Π±ΠΎΠ»ΡΠ½Π° Π½Π΅ ΠΠ°ΠΌΠΈ,
Π§ΡΠΎ Π½ΠΈΠΊΠΎΠ³Π΄Π° ΡΡΠΆΡΠ»ΡΠΉ ΡΠ°Ρ Π·Π΅ΠΌΠ½ΠΎΠΉ
ΠΠ΅ ΡΠΏΠ»ΡΠ²ΡΡ ΠΏΠΎΠ΄ Π½Π°ΡΠΈΠΌΠΈ Π½ΠΎΠ³Π°ΠΌΠΈ.
ΠΠ½Π΅ Π½ΡΠ°Π²ΠΈΡΡΡ, ΡΡΠΎ ΠΌΠΎΠΆΠ½ΠΎ Π±ΡΡΡ ΡΠΌΠ΅ΡΠ½ΠΎΠΉ β
Π Π°ΡΠΏΡΡΠ΅Π½Π½ΠΎΠΉ β ΠΈ Π½Π΅ ΠΈΠ³ΡΠ°ΡΡ ΡΠ»ΠΎΠ²Π°ΠΌΠΈ,
Π Π½Π΅ ΠΊΡΠ°ΡΠ½Π΅ΡΡ ΡΠ΄ΡΡΠ»ΠΈΠ²ΠΎΠΉ Π²ΠΎΠ»Π½ΠΎΠΉ,
Π‘Π»Π΅Π³ΠΊΠ° ΡΠΎΠΏΡΠΈΠΊΠΎΡΠ½ΡΠ²ΡΠΈΡΡ ΡΡΠΊΠ°Π²Π°ΠΌΠΈ.
ΠΠ½Π΅ Π½ΡΠ°Π²ΠΈΡΡΡ Π΅ΡΡ, ΡΡΠΎ ΠΡ ΠΏΡΠΈ ΠΌΠ½Π΅
Π‘ΠΏΠΎΠΊΠΎΠΉΠ½ΠΎ ΠΎΠ±Π½ΠΈΠΌΠ°Π΅ΡΠ΅ Π΄ΡΡΠ³ΡΡ,
ΠΠ΅ ΠΏΡΠΎΡΠΈΡΠ΅ ΠΌΠ½Π΅ Π² Π°Π΄ΠΎΠ²ΠΎΠΌ ΠΎΠ³Π½Π΅
ΠΠΎΡΠ΅ΡΡ Π·Π° ΡΠΎ, ΡΡΠΎ Ρ Π½Π΅ ΠΠ°Ρ ΡΠ΅Π»ΡΡ.
Π§ΡΠΎ ΠΈΠΌΡ Π½Π΅ΠΆΠ½ΠΎΠ΅ ΠΌΠΎΡ, ΠΌΠΎΠΉ Π½Π΅ΠΆΠ½ΡΠΉ, Π½Π΅
Π£ΠΏΠΎΠΌΠΈΠ½Π°Π΅ΡΠ΅ Π½ΠΈ Π΄Π½ΡΠΌ, Π½ΠΈ Π½ΠΎΡΡΡ β Π²ΡΡΠ΅β¦
Π§ΡΠΎ Π½ΠΈΠΊΠΎΠ³Π΄Π° Π² ΡΠ΅ΡΠΊΠΎΠ²Π½ΠΎΠΉ ΡΠΈΡΠΈΠ½Π΅
ΠΠ΅ ΠΏΡΠΎΠΏΠΎΡΡ Π½Π°Π΄ Π½Π°ΠΌΠΈ: Π°Π»Π»ΠΈΠ»ΡΠΉΡ!
Π‘ΠΏΠ°ΡΠΈΠ±ΠΎ ΠΠ°ΠΌ ΠΈ ΡΠ΅ΡΠ΄ΡΠ΅ΠΌ ΠΈ ΡΡΠΊΠΎΠΉ
ΠΠ° ΡΠΎ, ΡΡΠΎ ΠΡ ΠΌΠ΅Π½Ρ β Π½Π΅ Π·Π½Π°Ρ ΡΠ°ΠΌΠΈ! β
Π’Π°ΠΊ Π»ΡΠ±ΠΈΡΠ΅: Π·Π° ΠΌΠΎΠΉ Π½ΠΎΡΠ½ΠΎΠΉ ΠΏΠΎΠΊΠΎΠΉ,
ΠΠ° ΡΠ΅Π΄ΠΊΠΎΡΡΡ Π²ΡΡΡΠ΅Ρ Π·Π°ΠΊΠ°ΡΠ½ΡΠΌΠΈ ΡΠ°ΡΠ°ΠΌΠΈ,
ΠΠ° Π½Π°ΡΠΈ Π½Π΅-Π³ΡΠ»ΡΠ½ΡΡ ΠΏΠΎΠ΄ Π»ΡΠ½ΠΎΠΉ,
ΠΠ° ΡΠΎΠ»Π½ΡΠ΅ Π½Π΅ Ρ Π½Π°Ρ Π½Π°Π΄ Π³ΠΎΠ»ΠΎΠ²Π°ΠΌΠΈ,
ΠΠ° ΡΠΎ, ΡΡΠΎ ΠΡ Π±ΠΎΠ»ΡΠ½Ρ β ΡΠ²Ρ! β Π½Π΅ ΠΌΠ½ΠΎΠΉ,
ΠΠ° ΡΠΎ, ΡΡΠΎ Ρ Π±ΠΎΠ»ΡΠ½Π° β ΡΠ²Ρ! β Π½Π΅ ΠΠ°ΠΌΠΈ!
Russian State Archive of Literature and Art. F. 1190. Op. 2. Item. 22. P. 39.
ΠΠ½Π΅ Π½ΡΠ°Π²ΠΈΡΡΡ, ΡΡΠΎ Π²Ρ Π±ΠΎΠ»ΡΠ½Ρ Π½Π΅ ΠΌΠ½ΠΎΠΉ. (english)
ΠΠ²ΡΠΎΡ: alicevalger |
Marina Tsvetaeva
And even more, I like that you embrace
Another woman calmly as I’m watching,
Don’t threaten me that hell will be my place
For it is not your face my kiss is scorching,
That you, my tenderest, will never call my name,
My tender name, to spell my image bringing;
We’ll never hear a «halleluiah» fame,
Since not for us the choir will be singing.
P.S. ΠΡΠΌΠ°Ρ, ΠΎΡΠΈΠ³ΠΈΠ½Π°Π» ΠΏΡΠ΅Π΄ΠΎΡΡΠ°Π²Π»ΡΡΡ Π½Π΅ ΡΡΠ΅Π±ΡΠ΅ΡΡΡ?
Good work. Though I do not understand transfers professionally, but I know about it a little.
The main thing that not in transfer there was no translator.
It seems to me that it was possible to you:
Tsvetaeva is not muffled by the author of transfer.
Thanks you for your good English language.
Your admirer Medveghut’.
ΠΠΎΡΡΡΡΠ°ΡΡΠ°Ρ ΡΠ°Π±ΠΎΡΠ°.
Π― Π² Π²ΠΎΡΡΠΎΡΠ³Π΅.
I thank you earnestly with both my hand and heart.
Medvezhut’: i really tried.
Π ΡΠΎΠΆΠ°Π»Π΅Π½ΠΈΡ, ΠΏΠΎΠ»Π½ΠΎΡΡΡΡ Π°Π΄Π΅ΠΊΠ²Π°ΡΠ½ΠΎ ΠΎΡΠ΅Π½ΠΈΡΡ Π½Π΅ ΠΌΠΎΠ³Ρ. ΠΠ°ΡΠΊΠΎΠ»ΡΠΊΠΎ Ρ Π²Π°ΡΠ°Π΅Ρ Π·Π½Π°Π½Π½ΠΈΠΉ Π°Π½Π³Π»ΠΈΠΉΡΠΊΠΎΠ³ΠΎ, ΠΊΠ°ΠΆΠ΅ΡΡΡ ΡΠ΄Π°ΡΠ½ΠΎ ΠΏΠΎΠ»ΡΡΠΈΠ»ΠΎΡΡ..
I simply represent what it there was a work.
When you write in Russian and that difficultly happens to find a rhyme, and when on a foreign language.
I so could not, though attempts at me were.
ΠΊΠ°ΠΊ ΡΠ°ΠΌ ΠΏΡΠΎΠ³ΡΠ΅ΡΡ Ρ Π½ΠΎΡΠΈΡΠ΅Π»Π΅ΠΌ ΡΠ·ΡΠΊΠ°?
ΠΠΎΠ»ΡΡΠΈΠ»ΠΎΡΡ Π»ΠΈ ΡΡΠΎ-Π½ΠΈΠ±ΡΠ΄Ρ ΡΠ»ΡΡΡΠΈΡΡ?
Π‘ΡΠΈΡ ΠΎΡΠ²ΠΎΡΠ΅Π½ΠΈΠ΅ ΠΏΠΎΠΊΠ° ΡΡΠΎ Π½Π°Ρ ΠΎΠ΄ΠΈΡΡΡ Π² Π΄ΠΎΡΠ°Π±ΠΎΡΠΊΠ΅ Ρ ΡΡΠ°ΡΡΠΈΠ΅ΠΌ Π½ΠΎΡΠΈΡΠ΅Π»Ρ ΡΠ·ΡΠΊΠ°.
ΠΠ½Π΅ Π½ΡΠ°Π²ΠΈΡΡΡ ΡΡΠΎ Π²Ρ Π±ΠΎΠ»ΡΠ½Ρ Π½Π΅ ΠΌΠ½ΠΎΠΉ (Mne nravitsja chto vy bol’ny ne mnoj) (ΠΏΠ΅ΡΠ΅Π²ΠΎΠ΄ Π½Π° ΠΠ½Π³Π»ΠΈΠΉΡΠΊΠΈΠΉ)
I like that youβre not crazy in love with me
Feedback is appreciated. If you like or dislike something, leave a note.
The objective is to further human understanding so my feeble attempts are not copyrighted.
The point is that they don’t have feelings (to each other) to express and she’s glad that’s the case
We must agree to disagree. Relationships donβt always workout, but feelings are there, imho
Sure.Agree to disagree is always fine with me.
Pierre, «Excuse my French» coming from you is such a world class pun or anti-pun, whatever you call it, it is funny.
Iβm lost in Igorβs reply, but yes, one could say: speaking/acting without artifice
which comment are you lost in: brava!?
Iβm surprised you didnβt take it back since Iβm arguing. I didnβt get what was funny in Pierreβs remark.
And who is talking about me going wild with Sasha (I mean ASM)?
Igor and I may disagree, but I doubt either of us will get as wild as you two.
Plus, it isnβt surprising that some men and some women may interpret this song differently. Lol.
Deanna, to explain «funny» is kinda difficult, and once you start doing it, it kinda stops being funny.
Apparently, Pierre got it
And why would I take my comment back? It was addressed to a person who wrote the translation,
not to the one arguing
The usual double meaning of «excuse my French», plus the discussions we had lately about French->Russian translations. That makes it a 3-ways pun
Geez, you go 3-ways now? I hope not 3-strikes
Aren’t the French the ones supposed to have a dirty mind?
You are. 3-way was you, not me
A picture of me doing such unspeakable things could hardly form in a spotless mind, or could it?
Hence, play on words. lol
Just imagine it in my mind, oh, so beautiful 🤣
Just to think the other day, Pierre, you werenβt silenced in support of a scar on a derriΓ¨re
That’s a totally unrelated matter. I would not share a lovely scarred ΠΏΠΎΠΏΠ° with anyone.
See, what we achieved the other day, I mean linguistically. We made the world adopt the delicate word «popa» instead
of vulgar «ass» or «butt». Back then Pierre was an ass-man, now he is a popa-man.
Come on Pierre, you are too modest. The fact that it was coming from you was the most funny for me. You with your French
apologizing ( technically) for it as if it was not good enough for our conversation. Hilarious.. Here, Deanna, I did my best explaining the funny.
That’s more or less how I understood it too, but Deanna seems to have translated literally («without play on words»), that’s why I asked. I had thought for a while that there might have been a pun inside the word Β«Π Π°ΡΠΏΡΡΠ΅Π½Π½ΠΎΠΉΒ», but to my relief, it seems not to be the case.
The best one I could think for you, is double entendres
Matter of opinion. But remember, the theme of the song is: I am so glad that we are not in love with each other, so there’s no risk of falling out of love.
Like you said, matter of opinion. She could be very much in love.
Oh no, I think she is just on the edge of falling in love, and both regrets that nothing happens and feels relieved about it.
Oh, no. βthingsβ already happened
OK. She’s a woman, you’re a woman and who am I and what do I know.
What she says is OK because that literal «without play on words» is tied to «careless» and «lose» which provides the context. IMHO, of course.
The question remains if» without play on words» is «good English». I would not dare to have a definitive opinion on that. Lately parts of
my translations to English that sounded totally OK to me get stuck in my son’s «Quality Control». He is a rigorous dude and if something does not sound good to him, he would not hold it back, and would not accept the «poetry» excuse. And that leads to better translations. He is also
my main tester on singability. Very meticulous.
I translated by «et ne pas badiner» (=without bantering, dallying, flirting), but another possibility would have been «sans jouer sur les mots» (without playing on words), which would mean something quite different. Well, I hope to have hit the nail on the head.
You might like this
Hey, there was an extra stanza there! Here is the complete text I just found. But the meaning remains unchanged.
Anyway, the voice is interesting, but the French subtitles, although not completely wrong, could be discussed.
Let’s summarize : they never know what they want.
D, isn’t it hard to translate this kind of Russian?
Π¦Π²Π΅ΡΠ°Π΅Π²Π° Π² ΠΈΡΠΏΠΎΠ»Π½Π΅Π½ΠΈΠΈ ΡΡΡΠΊΠΈ ΠΡΡΡΠΊΠΈ Ρ
ΠΈΡΠΎΠΌ Π±ΡΠ»ΠΎ Π² ΡΠΎ Π²ΡΠ΅ΠΌΡ
ΠΠ»Π»Π° ΠΡΠ³Π°ΡΠ΅Π²Π° = ΡΡΡΠΊΠ° ΠΡΡΡΠΊΠ°
Π ΠΠ΄Π΅ΡΡΠ΅ ΡΠ°ΠΊ Π½Π΅ Π³ΠΎΠ²ΠΎΡΠΈΠ»ΠΈ?
Nope. Never heard it. I love songs she used to sing long time ago, but her late carrier is fraught with bad choices.
Π
ΠΠ°ΠΊ Π½Π΅ ΠΎΡΡΠ°Π½ΠΎΠ²ΠΈΡΡ Π±Π΅Π³ΡΡΠ΅Π³ΠΎ Π±ΠΈΠ·ΠΎΠ½Π°,
Π’Π°ΠΊ Π½Π΅ ΠΎΡΡΠ°Π½ΠΎΠ²ΠΈΡΡ ΠΏΠΎΡΡΠ΅Π³ΠΎ ΠΠΎΠ±Π·ΠΎΠ½Π°
Π’ΠΎΠΆΠ΅ Π½Π΅ Π³ΠΎΠ²ΠΎΡΠΈΠ»ΠΈ?
No. But I recall Magomayev making ironic remarks about him.
Well, it is like we grew up in different countries 🤣
OK, thanks for the offer, I wrote it down. Though usually, when I ask advice from a russophone, the matter seems much more complicated after it was answered than it was before asking.
How true
I always understood this poem as it is written. She enjoys not being sick with love for him. There is a very definite attractions, maybe even intimate relationship, but not love. She doesnβt want to fall in love with him, as she knows he is not in love with her, he is, in fact, in love with her sister, but he is infatuated with her. There is also some distinct element of jealousy and regret.
Here you go, some interesting article about this poem:
Sister, where did you get the sister part? In which allusion? Don’t want to go to wiki, you tell me.
Isn’t it a bit not good to know the real life story behind a song/poem. You thought there’s some magic in that poem.
No magic, everything totally explainable, you know. And then you start comparing: did she correctly reflect what
happened to her in that poem. Fact checking.
I don’t think I like it.
I knew the story of this poem from before. So I always applied it, so to say, in my understanding why and how it was written. Sorry if I burst any bubbles! It doesnβt diminish the real beauty and depth, and elegance of this poem! Anyone can feel it in their own way.
To me, even not being a qualified specialist in female psychology, the matter is clear, I can’t see real difficulties in understanding it.
The intricate tension and juxtaposition of her tangled emotions comes from this part:
Π‘ΠΏΠ°ΡΠΈΠ±ΠΎ Π²Π°ΠΌ, ΠΈ ΡΠ΅ΡΠ΄ΡΠ΅ΠΌ ΠΈ ΡΡΠΊΠΎΠΉ
ΠΠ° ΡΠΎ, ΡΡΠΎ Π²Ρ ΠΌΠ΅Π½Ρ β Π½Π΅ Π·Π½Π°Ρ ΡΠ°ΠΌΠΈ! β
Π’Π°ΠΊ Π»ΡΠ±ΠΈΡΠ΅
Here is also another hint to a parallel relationship:
ΠΠ° ΡΠΎ, ΡΡΠΎ ΠΡ Π±ΠΎΠ»ΡΠ½Ρ, ΡΠ²Ρ, Π½Π΅ ΠΌΠ½ΠΎΠΉ =>
ΠΠ° ΡΠΎ, ΡΡΠΎ ΠΡ Π²Π»ΡΠ±Π»Π΅Π½Ρ, Π£ΠΠ«, Π½Π΅ Π² ΠΌΠ΅Π½Ρ, Π° Π² ΠΊΠΎΠ³ΠΎ-ΡΠΎ Π΄ΡΡΠ³ΠΎΠ³ΠΎ. ΠΠ°Π»Ρ.
ΠΠ° ΡΠΎ, ΡΡΠΎ Ρ Π±ΠΎΠ»ΡΠ½Π°, ΡΠ²Ρ, Π½Π΅ ΠΠ°ΠΌΠΈ => ΠΎΡΡΡΠ°Π½Ρ ΡΠΆΠ΅, ΡΠ°Π·Π±Π΅ΡΠΈΡΡ, ΡΡΠΎ ΡΠ΅Π±Π΅ Π½Π°Π΄ΠΎ. ΠΠ΅ ΠΌΡΡΠ°ΠΉ ΡΠ΅Π±Ρ ΠΈ Π½Π°Ρ.
Sorry for being slightly cynical. And again, without reading that article about back-story, the meaning of this beautiful poem is still quite intricate and can vary, depending on the readerβs personal take.
I read the comments about the poem, but it doesn’t change much my understanding of it. That it was about her sister’s husband or about anybody else doesn’t seem to really play a role. It’s about a flirt that didn’t lead to anything, but perhaps might have, in other circumstances. They were on the edge of it, as I said. It both reflects feelings and a bitter irony. (Now, having heard about Tsvetaeva’s love affairs, I would say that it was probably nothing very tragical, just one more episode of her fretful sentimental life.)
Now, be there sister or no sister, the poem is a masterpiece IMHO, revealing ambiguity in feelings ; and what is great is precisely that we don’t need to know the details of the story (even if it’s of course interesting) to appreciate it, it is universal. Perhaps it would even be better not to know about the real situation, because one doesn’t really miss a thing when reading the poem for the first time (even if knowing nothing about the author) : everything is in it, there is no secret significance.
Perfectly succinct and succinctly perfect. Agree completely.
Sister,
this comment of yours just opened my eyes to the fact that I’ve never paused to understand this poem of Tzvetaeva in its entirety.
To me it was just pretty sounding lines, good music of Tariverdiev, decent singing of Alla ( never heard the term Dus’ka, BTW).
>Π‘ΠΏΠ°ΡΠΈΠ±ΠΎ Π²Π°ΠΌ, ΠΈ ΡΠ΅ΡΠ΄ΡΠ΅ΠΌ ΠΈ ΡΡΠΊΠΎΠΉ
So they are married. Or getting married? Or the meaning is : Thanks for not asking me to marry you?
Forget I said anything about my understanding of the meaning of what she was saying in that poem. I officially don’t have any understanding.
I am not God, after all, to understand this female shit, though Deanna thinks I am.
To me Tzvetaeva is such a tragic figure that it pains me to learn more details about her life. Imagine being in love for most of her life with a
Stalin’s «useful idiot» turned NKVD agent. And the end that it led to. Those useful idiots should have read Andre Gide more, they probably knew French.
She’s been living in Clamart (France, Paris suburbs) for a while. So did I (but not at the same time). I’ve seen the building where she lived, it’s still standing. I heard that some people wished to put a commemorative plaque near the door, but the present inhabitants, who most certainly never heard of her, opposed. So goes life.
She was a brilliant poet but not such a good person. But here I go again! You can read more about her and her life on internet.