How is life easier for you with someone else?

The similarity and at the same time the contrast of these two poems struck me to the very heart at one time. And this, perhaps, is the most clear illustration of the fact that Akhmatova is sure to or Tsvetaeva", but never "Akhmatova And Tsvetaeva".

However, the theme of these poems, the everyday situation, the material, so to speak, basis for sublime spiritual experiences, was best revealed not by one of these two brilliant poetesses, but by... Alla Pugacheva in a song.

I know what she has, she, her
Cat's soul
And I'm gorgeous
Madame Broshkina
She's like that, no-no
Well, what did you find in her?
And I’m so, damn it, I’m so melting
But my train has left

And this song is also not bad - an excellent illustration of the characteristic “understandable about understandable.”

And here are the actual poems:

Marina Tsvetaeva. "Attempt at Jealousy"

How do you live with someone else?
Easier, right? - Oar strike! –
Coastline
Will the memory soon fade away?

About me, floating island
(Across the sky - not across the waters!)
Souls, souls! to be your sisters
Not lovers - you!

How do you live with downtime?
A woman? Without deities?
Empress from the throne
Having overthrown (descended from it),

How is your life - are you busy -
Are you cringing? Getting up - how?
With the duty of immortal vulgarity
How are you coping, poor man?

"Convulsions and interruptions -
Enough! I'll rent a house."
How do you live with anyone -
To my chosen one!

Anna Akhmatova
I'm not asking for your love.
She's in a safe place now...
Believe that I am your bride
I don't write jealous letters.
But take the advice of the wise:
Let her read my poems
Let her keep my portraits -
After all, the grooms are so kind!
And these fools need it more
Consciousness full of victory,
Than friendship is light talk
And the memory of the first tender days...
When is happiness worth pennies?
You will live with your dear friend
And for the satiated soul
Everything will suddenly become disgusting -
On my special night
Don't come. I don't know you.
And how could I help you?
I don't heal from happiness.

The main motives of the poems are common (however, this was also the case in “Madame Broshkina”) and are immediately striking: the insignificance (“ordinariness”) of the rival in comparison with the lyrical heroine (“these fools”, “market goods”), “cheapness” and squalor, the fragility of new happiness (“happiness is pennies,” “a failure without depth,” “if you get bored, don’t blame”).

However, there are differences, and they are more significant than they might seem at first glance.

First of all - in tone and state of mind lyrical heroine.

Tsvetaeva is indicative in that she knows how to anatomize seething passions - to show them in all their violence, but in such a way that “those with eyes can see” clearly all their mechanisms, all their cunning “techniques” - “how it happens.” And here the poet does not betray himself.

The heroine is hysterical. Jealousy without boundaries, bleeding pride, the desire to assert one’s superiority at any cost, to console one’s pride, they say, he could not stand the “convulsions and interruptions”, he wanted to “rent a house”...

Can a woman in such a state be objective? Is her rival really so bad, low and ordinary, and so high and “divine”? Doubtful. Dubious superiority - “convulsions and interruptions.” The rest of its superiority is either only postulated, not supported by anything (“floating island in the sky”, “marbles of Carrara”, “empress”, “Sinai” somehow got involved - we’ll see below how), or lies strictly in the sphere of intense feelings ( “wizards”, “one who knows Lilith”). That is, in reality it turns out that the heroine is better only because happiness with her was more passionate and acute than with the other. From under the sublime rhetoric, the rivalry between the legal bed - earthly (“home”, “here”, “lives and bustles”) and the passionate bed – involved in the world of divine and demonic essences (“Sinai”, the world “Lilith”) shows its skeleton, as old as the world. ). Moreover, the latter in the archetype are not particularly different at all: whether the houria is in front of you or the succubus - everything is one; however, some of the Christian critics of Islam argued that this is one and the same thing. Eve and Lilith are the names of the masks that Tsvetaeva’s heroine puts on herself and her rival. And, apparently, undeservedly - both of them are Eve’s daughters, who quarreled to smithereens over the son of Adam.

Akhmatova’s heroine is not hysterical. If she is annoyed, if her pride is offended, then only slightly. Final “Don’t come on my gala night - I don’t know you!” sounds no more revenge for “violated feelings” than Tatyana’s refusal to Onegin at the end of the novel.

Akhmatova’s heroine is aware of her real, and not just imaginary, height. She - famous poet, her poems are read and her portraits are kept by such “fools” as her rival. In addition, it is not clear from the context whether there was actual love between her and her addressee or whether this relationship was only “in the world of poetry”; however, even if they were lovers, that was not their main quality.

She really lives in a different space - not where there is happiness, triumph over a rival, satiety with love. She, unlike her antagonist (and the heroine Tsvetaeva!) lives not among feelings, but in the world of “light conversations” and “memory” - in the world of ideas. She is superior to her rival and unfaithful lover not by some of her personal qualities, but ontologically - by position. As thought is higher than feeling, the memory of the unforgettable is higher than momentary triumph, and sublime triumph is higher than happiness.

And “on the gala night” she will really have nothing to talk about with a person who is so fed up with happiness that he needed to be “healed” from it. This is impossible, he fell into the trap of eros of his own free will, like a fly in a saucer of honey, and will remain there as long as he thinks in terms of “happiness” and “hatefulness” and asks the heroine for “healing.” From this trap - most likely - there is only a way up, but the poem is silent about this. And he’s doing the right thing, because this conversation will be much longer and more serious than the short five stanzas of easy iambic tetrameter :)

An attempt at jealousy. Lilith and Marina Tsvetaeva. October 3rd, 2013

The image of Lilith, realizing “alternative mythology” and contrasting with the usual image of Eve, has gained great popularity among romantics.

In Renaissance Europe, there is a legend about Lilith - Adam's first wife took on the appearance of a beautiful, seductive woman. A similar idea of ​​Lilith appears in medieval Jewish literature, although in the Jewish tradition Lilith's beautiful appearance is associated with her ability to change her appearance. The legend about her inspired the English poet Dante Gabriel Rossetti (1828-1882) to write the poem “The Abode of Paradise”, in which Lilith became the first wife of Adam, and God created Eve later. And Lilith loved Adam. To take revenge on Eve, Lilith persuaded her to taste the forbidden fruit. The fruit of conception. But Eve gave birth to Cain, brother and murderer of Abel, from Adam. This is the original form of myth that Rossetti developed.

This legend also finds its place in the poetry of Marina Tsvetaeva.
Love for Marina Tsvetaeva was the most important part of life. Premonition of love, anticipation of it, blossoming, disappointment in a loved one, jealousy, pain of separation - all this sounds in Tsvetaeva’s lyrics. Jealousy, the constant companion of love and separation. The poem “An Attempt of Jealousy” is filled with reproaches to the lover and his new chosen one. Jealousy is one of the most powerful human emotions, comparable to love and hatred.
Tsvetaeva makes fun of new darling. The woman he chooses is a “market commodity” “without sixth senses.” The traitor, “who trampled Sinai,” is, in her opinion, the main culprit of what happened. The poem is saturated with burning jealousy, each line is a piece of wounded pride. Lyrical heroine capable of overcoming all obstacles, defending her right to feelings, capable of “suffering and bringing back” her chosen one. She is unpredictable and unexpected, at the same time she can be tender, affectionate and arrogant. She still loves lyrical hero and cannot exist without him. Rebellious and passionate, she sometimes suffers like the most ordinary woman, asking the eternal question: “My dear, what have I done to you?”
Through jealousy, Tsvetaeva expresses love, wants to “suffer and bring back” her betrothed.

And how well it all started:

From Avetik Isahakyan's story "Lilith"

And God, seeing Adam’s loneliness, said to himself: “We need to create a tender girlfriend for Adam, so that man can taste the joys of heaven not alone.” And he caught the flame directed upward and from its unsteady, fluttering tongues he created the first woman - Lilith.

And, looking at his creation, he said in admiration: “It’s good, because it’s beautiful.” And he called Adam to him. He put Lilith’s small hand in the palm of the proto-man and said: “Adam, here is your friend, the beautiful Lilith.” Be reflected in each other's eyes, and love each other with your hearts. Be fruitful and multiply. Adam, follow Lilith all the days of your life, and you, Lilith, be submissive to Adam. Lilith looked intently at Adam and smelled the smell of clay. And she felt that Adam’s gaze fell like the weight of the earth on her shoulders. And she hastily pulled her hand out of Adam’s palm.

Adam looked at Lilith, and a certain abyss of beauty opened up before him, and it enchanted him, and drew his soul to a terrible abyss, to destruction. And he closed his eyes where fear, born of admiration, stood. And when he opened his eyes again, his lips were barely able to utter: “Praise be to you, Lord, for you have created the most beautiful and perfect of all your creations.” You have created the crown of your entire wonderful universe. Praise be to you eternal and boundless! Lilith listened to his words and languidly bowed her head to his shoulder, the first satisfied smile flashed on her wondrous face. Adam, awakened by a certain feeling hitherto unknown to him, wished to take Lilith’s hand again. But Lilith escaped Adam like a flame. And Adam felt that his heart was chained to the luminous feet of Lilith. And, watching Lilith, he saw that she stood on the shore of a blazing golden lake, where swans with snow-white plumage were swimming smoothly. Lilith looked at the swans with delight. Their flexible, beautifully curved necks fascinated her. She called the swans in gentle voices. And when she knelt down to caress them, she saw a wondrous, fiery appearance on the surface of the water, and when she realized that it was her reflection, she admired herself and became proud. She braided her scattered curls so that the braids curled over her back and shoulders. And, delighted, Lilith looked at her image and could not get enough. blue sky, the sun and a corner of paradise were reflected in the mirror of the lake. And Lilith saw that the sun was not as fiery as the flame of her eyes and the sky was not as bottomless as the depth of her eyes. In paradise she is the most perfect creature, and paradise and the lake are filled with the radiance of her face.

Two yellow butterflies with diamond wings flew in and landed on her fragrant curls. Lilith looked at them and smiled: - How wonderful it would be if they always remained in my curls... And she began to pluck the flowers that exuded incense and shimmered with thousands of colors around her, and tied her hair with them. Adam stood at a distance, absorbedly watching his friend, and suddenly dared to approach her. When Lilith saw that Adam’s reflection mixed with hers, she recoiled in anger and directed the furious flame of her eyes at Adam. “Lilith, Lilith, the most beautiful of the angels,” Adam said barely audibly, “what kind of flowers did you pick?” - These? These are miracle flowers, you won’t understand their charms,” Lilith interrupted Adam contemptuously.

And with her fingers streaming flames, she smoothed Adam’s unkempt beard. And Adam’s heart was filled with endless tenderness. He was ready to fall at the feet of Lilith and beg for forgiveness. “Dear Adam,” Lilith addressed him affectionately, “catch this flying flower for me.” - It's a butterfly, not a flower. - Catch it anyway. Adam ran after the butterfly and could not catch it. - Do you want me to catch her right away? - Lilith said and, fluttering in the air, caught a butterfly in a single moment. - See, Adam? But how slow you are! “I can’t jump in the air like you,” Adam justified himself offendedly. - But I can run very fast. “And you can’t do that,” Lilith objected. “I can,” Adam insisted. - Don't boast in vain. Adam insisted. “Okay,” Lilith said. - Catch me, if you catch me, I will give you the sweetest fruit in Eden. - What kind of fruit is this that you know, but not me, although I managed to try all the fruits of paradise? - Adam asked in surprise. - What is it called? - Kiss. -Kiss? - Adam repeated in bewilderment. - Yes, kiss. When one mouth touches another. Don't know?

Adam thought: how did Lilith know this, how and when did she know about it? And he looked at Lilith with doubt. And Lilith silently looked into Adam’s eyes, and her gaze, like a tongue of flame, pierced Adam’s eyes with flaming rays and lit Adam’s soul with crimson fire. And Adam obediently agreed. Lilith ran briskly and easily, while Adam ran quickly, but out of breath. Either Lilith was hiding in the bushes, then she flew out from somewhere, then she stopped for a moment and said with a ringing laugh: “Go, catch it, I’m waiting!” And she waited, folding her scarlet lips into a flower of kissing. Adam stopped, losing his mind. -Adam, what did God make you from? - Lilith asked, approaching him. - From the earth, but in its own image and likeness. -From the earth? From the earth?.. Ha, ha, ha! - Lilith mocked. - That's why you're so heavy, clumsy and rude.

Adam became inflamed, angry and... Having gathered all his strength, he rushed to Lilith and almost caught her and squeezed her in his arms, but his fingers only touched Lilith’s curls. And Lilith, in a single moment, rushed upward like a lark and rushed off into the thickets, laughed cheerfully and shouted in a ringing voice: “Adam, come tomorrow, let’s go for a walk in paradise.” And for a long time, defeated and ashamed, Adam stood rooted to the spot and, without blinking, looked wide with open eyes on the thickets that hide Lilith.

“An attempt at jealousy” Marina Tsvetaeva

How do you live with someone else?
It’s easier, isn’t it? - Oar blow! -
Coastline
Will the memory soon fade away?

About me, floating island
(Across the sky - not across the waters)!
Souls, souls! - to be your sisters,
Not lovers - you!

How do you live with downtime?
A woman? Without deities?
Empress from the throne
Having overthrown (descended from it),

How are you living? Are you busy?
Are you cringing? Getting up - how?
With the duty of immortal vulgarity
How are you coping, poor man?

“Convulsions and interruptions -
Enough! I’ll rent a house for myself.”
How do you live with anyone -
To my chosen one!

More characteristic and more edible -
Food? If you get bored, don’t blame me...
How do you live with your likeness?
To you, who trampled Sinai!

How do you live with a stranger?
From here? Edge-on - Lyuba?
Shame of Zeus's reins
Doesn't it whip your forehead?

How are you doing - are you healthy -
Maybe? Sung - how?
With the ulcer of an immortal conscience
How are you coping, poor man?

How do you live with the product?
Market? Is quitrent cool?
After the marbles of Carrara
How do you live with dust?

Plaster? (Hewn from a block
God is completely broken!)
How do you live with a hundred thousand -
To you who have known Lilith!

Market novelty
Are you full? I've cooled down to the wizards,
How do you live with earthly
A woman, without sixths

Feelings?..
Well, behind your head: are you happy?
No? In a hole without depths -
How are you, dear? Is it harder
Is it the same as for me with others?

Analysis of Tsvetaeva’s poem “An Attempt of Jealousy”

Among Marina Tsvetaeva’s many lovers, one should highlight Konstantin Rodzevich, a White Guard officer whom the poetess met in exile. Tsvetaeva’s husband Sergei Efron knew about this fleeting romance, which ended in separation by mutual consent, but did not interfere with his wife’s romantic interests. It was for this that Tsvetaeva respected her husband, considering him almost an angel in the flesh. However, this did not stop her from cheating on him from time to time, stroking not only her own pride, but also looking for new impressions from foreign life, which the poetess considered insipid and unpromising.

A few months after breaking up with Konstantin Rodzevich, Tsvetaeva creates the poem “An Attempt of Jealousy” (1924), with which she wants to draw a line under her whirlwind romance. The poetess understands that she has never experienced deep feelings for her chosen one. And he needed an ordinary woman, capable of creating home comfort, and not one with her head in the clouds. It is for this reason that Tsvetaeva begins her poem with the phrase: “How is your life with someone else - it’s easier, isn’t it?” The poetess understands that she can make any man happy, but only on condition that he sees in her a goddess, queen and sorceress. But, alas, the world works differently, and men want to see practical, economic and down-to-earth people next to them.

Tsvetaeva understands that the world has changed so much that there is no place left for romantic feelings in it. Therefore, men and women come together not because of high feelings, but because of everyday necessity. The realization of this offends the poetess, who at the same time regrets and reproaches Rodzevich, asking: “How do you live with market goods?” This phrase sounds quite offensive, but it reflects the essence of the relationship between a man and a woman in the first half of the 20th century. Indeed, love fades into the background along with such spiritual qualities like honesty, decency, nobility and self-sacrifice. Tsvetaeva, having become Rodzevich’s mistress, is well aware of the step she has dared to take. Indeed, in her concept, cheating on her husband is a grave sin, which can only be committed in the name of sincere and all-consuming love. But, alas, it turns out to be a mirage and very soon fades away under the influence external factors, breaking down about practicality, prudence, prosaicness in the relationship between two people.

Tsvetaeva is well aware that the replacement that Rodzevich found for her is not equivalent. And even more so there is no point in talking about high feelings. However, the poetess is concerned with the question: can her chosen one live happily with a woman he does not love? The poetess herself answers this question in the affirmative, because she had to return to her husband, whom she tolerates next to her only for the sake of the children. Therefore, Tsvetaeva is interested in ex-lover: “How are you, dear? Is it harder
Is it the same as for me with someone else?

Marina Ivanovna Tsvetaeva

How do you live with someone else?
It’s easier, isn’t it? - Oar blow! -
Coastline
Will the memory soon fade away?

About me, floating island
(Across the sky - not across the waters)!
Souls, souls! - to be your sisters,
Not lovers - you!

How do you live with downtime?
A woman? Without deities?
Empress from the throne
Having overthrown (descended from it),

How are you living? Are you busy?
Are you cringing? Getting up - how?
With the duty of immortal vulgarity
How are you coping, poor man?

“Convulsions and interruptions -
Enough! I’ll rent a house for myself.”
How do you live with anyone -
To my chosen one!

More characteristic and more edible -
Food? If you get bored, don’t blame me...
How do you live with your likeness?
To you, who trampled Sinai!

How do you live with a stranger?
From here? Edge-on - Lyuba?
Shame of Zeus's reins
Doesn't it whip your forehead?

How are you doing - are you healthy -
Maybe? Sung - how?
With the ulcer of an immortal conscience
How are you coping, poor man?

How do you live with the product?
Market? Is quitrent cool?
After the marbles of Carrara
How do you live with dust?

Plaster? (Hewn from a block
God is completely broken!)
How do you live with a hundred thousand -
To you who have known Lilith!

Market novelty
Are you full? I've cooled down to the wizards,
How do you live with earthly
A woman, without sixths

Feelings?..
Well, behind your head: are you happy?
No? In a hole without depths -
How are you, dear? Is it harder
Is it the same as for me with others?

Among Marina Tsvetaeva’s many lovers, one should highlight Konstantin Rodzevich, a White Guard officer whom the poetess met in exile. Tsvetaeva’s husband Sergei Efron knew about this fleeting romance, which ended in separation by mutual consent, but did not interfere with his wife’s romantic interests.

Sergei Efron and Marina Tsvetaeva

It was for this that Tsvetaeva respected her husband, considering him almost an angel in the flesh. However, this did not stop her from cheating on him from time to time, stroking not only her own pride, but also looking for new impressions from foreign life, which the poetess considered insipid and unpromising.

A few months after breaking up with Konstantin Rodzevich, Tsvetaeva creates the poem “An Attempt of Jealousy” (1924), with which she wants to draw a line under her whirlwind romance. The poetess understands that she has never experienced deep feelings for her chosen one. And he needed an ordinary woman, capable of creating home comfort, and not one with her head in the clouds. It is for this reason that Tsvetaeva begins her poem with the phrase: “How is your life with someone else - it’s easier, isn’t it?” The poetess understands that she can make any man happy, but only on condition that he sees in her a goddess, queen and sorceress. But, alas, the world works differently, and men want to see practical, economic and down-to-earth people next to them.

Tsvetaeva understands that the world has changed so much that there is no place left for romantic feelings in it. Therefore, men and women come together not because of high feelings, but because of everyday necessity. The realization of this offends the poetess, who at the same time regrets and reproaches Rodzevich, asking: “How do you live with market goods?” This phrase sounds quite offensive, but it reflects the essence of the relationship between a man and a woman in the first half of the 20th century. Indeed, love fades into the background along with such spiritual qualities as honesty, decency, nobility and self-sacrifice. Tsvetaeva, having become Rodzevich’s mistress, is well aware of the step she has dared to take. Indeed, in her concept, cheating on her husband is a grave sin, which can only be committed in the name of sincere and all-consuming love. But, alas, it turns out to be a mirage and very soon fades away under the influence of external factors, breaking down due to the practicality, prudence, and prosaic nature of the relationship between two people.

Tsvetaeva is well aware that the replacement that Rodzevich found for her is not equivalent. And even more so, there is no point in talking about high feelings. However, the poetess is concerned with the question: can her chosen one live happily with a woman he does not love? The poetess herself answers this question in the affirmative, because she had to return to her husband, whom she tolerates next to her only for the sake of the children. Therefore, Tsvetaeva asks her former lover: “How is life, dear? Is it harder
Is it the same as for me with someone else?

Marina Tsvetaeva.

ATTEMPT OF JEALOUSY

How do you live with someone else?
It’s easier, isn’t it? - Oar blow! -
Coastline
Will the memory soon fade away?

About me, floating island
(Across the sky - not across the waters)!
Souls, souls! - to be your sisters,
Not lovers - you!

How do you live with downtime?
A woman? Without deities?
Empress from the throne
Having overthrown (descended from it),

How is your life - you are busy -
Are you cringing? Getting up - how?
With the duty of immortal vulgarity
How are you coping, poor man?

"Convulsions and interruptions -
Enough! I'll rent a house."
How do you live with anyone -
To my chosen one!

More characteristic and edible -
Food? If you get bored, don't blame me...
How do you live with the likeness -
To you, who trampled Sinai!

How do you live with a stranger?
From here? Edge-on - Lyuba?
Shame of Zeus's reins
Doesn't it whip your forehead?

How are you doing - are you healthy -
Maybe? Sung - how?
With the ulcer of an immortal conscience
How are you coping, poor man?

How do you live with the product?
Market? Is quitrent cool?
After the marbles of Carrara
How do you live with dust?

Plaster? (Hewn from a block
God is completely broken!)
How do you live with a hundred thousand -
To you who have known Lilith!

Market novelty
Are you full? I've cooled down to the wizards,
How do you live with earthly
A woman, without sixths

Feelings?..
Well, behind your head: are you happy?
No? In a hole without depths -
How are you, dear? Is it harder
Is it the same as for me with others?
November 19, 1924

This poem is addressed to Konstantin Boleslavovich Rodzevich.

LETTERS FROM MARINA TSVETAEVA TO KONSTANTIN RODZEVICH

My dear,

I am fulfilling not your request, but my thirst: I am writing to you - and I am happy that I am alone at this hour. (And here, from below, are the opening chords of the clock: seven.) Seven o'clock. Window blue. Your usual hour. You won't be there and I won't wait for you. I'm calm, I'm with you.

You are now sitting over some book - ah, all books of some kind, when you can’t read them! - and you can’t do it now, as you won’t be able to urinate for many days! - because you can only come to me, with me. - How do I know this?

I know a lot that I didn’t know yesterday, and tomorrow I’ll know a lot that I don’t know today, I, in a sense, am Werden* - it’s a pity that I’m like this short term! But let's not talk about timing.
* in the making (German)

Harlequin! - So I call you. The first Harlequin in a life in which one cannot count - Pierrot! For the first time I love a happy person, and maybe for the first time I am looking for happiness, and not loss, I want to take, and not give, to be, and not to be lost! I feel strength in you, this has never happened to me. The power to love not all of me is chaos! - and the best me, the main me. I have never given a person the right to choose: either everything - or nothing, but there is everything in this - like in primordial chaos - so much that it is no wonder that a person disappeared in it, lost himself and, in the end, me. The other must be God, God separated the light from the darkness, the firmament from the water, “he put weight on the wind and arranged the water according to measure” (Bible, Book of Job) - the other must create us from the same bliss (oh, not from himself!) and perhaps this , of course, only through love. Love: God. Before you it sounded like love: illness. Hence the obsession, and the awakening, and the tornness, and after the tornness (in order to be saved from it!), the detachment (my renunciation).

You performed a miracle on me, for the first time I felt the unity of heaven and earth. Oh, I loved the earth even before you: trees! She loved everything, knew how to love everything, except for another, living one. The other one was the wall that I was hitting against, I couldn’t deal with the living! Hence the consciousness: non-woman, spirit. Don't live - die. Railway station.

Dear friend, you brought me back to a life in which I tried so many times and still could not live for an hour. It was a foreign country. Oh, I’m talking about Life, with a capital letter, - not about that petite one that is now separating us! I’m not talking about everyday life, not about little baseness and hypocrisy, I used to hate them, now I just don’t see them, I don’t want to see them. Oh, if you stayed with me, you would teach me to live - even in in a simple sense words: I already know two roads in Prague! (To the station and to the church.) Friend, you believed in me, you said: “You can do anything,” and I probably can do everything. Instead of admiring my earthly ailments, you, paying full tribute to something else in me, said: “You are still living. This is not possible,” and this is really impossible, because my notorious “inability to live” is suffering for me. Others acted like aesthetes: they admired, or like weak people: they sympathized. Nobody tried to change. My strength deceived me in other worlds: the strong there, the weak here. People supported my duality in me. It was cruel. It was necessary to either heal or kill. You just loved me.

Strangeness and familiarity. You don’t listen to your own family, you don’t trust someone else’s. Native: one who is obsessed with our weaknesses. Alien: one who does not understand them. You, understanding, are not obsessed - you alone could help me! (I write and smile: You are in the role of a doctor of the soul!.. But God walks in different ways!.. To me, obviously, there was no other way.)

Oh, Lord, this is the whole charm, the whole strangeness of our meeting: the unpredictability of the prey. It’s the same as if a miner was looking for iron and discovered gold! What pushed me to you? Charm. That is:

Jeder Goldschmuck und das Luftgewurze,
Das sich taubend in die Sinne streut…
________________
Those jewels and scents
What stupefies the senses (German)

I love your eyes. (“I love my eyes when they are like this!” And the interlocutor, silently: “Do they often look like this?”) I love your hands, thin and slightly cold in your hands. The suddenness of your excitement, the unpredictability of your smile. Oh, how deeply truthful you are! How simple are you, with all your sophistication? A player teaching me about humanity. Oh, you and I, perhaps we were both not human before we met! I told you: there is a Soul, you told me: there is a Life.

All this, of course, is just the beginning. I am writing to you about my desire (decision) to live. I won’t be able to do this without you and without you. I can love life through you. Let me go - I’ll leave again, only with even greater bitterness. You are my first and last stronghold (from the hosts!) If you leave, they will rush! Hosts, dreams, winged horses... And not only from hosts - a stronghold: from my insomnia, which always ends with someone’s lips on lips.

You are my salvation from both death and life, You are Life. (Lord, forgive me for this happiness!)

It's Sunday, no - it's already Monday! - Three o'clock in the morning.

Honey, you're walking now high road, alone, under the moon. Now you understand why I stopped you with: love is God. After all, these are exactly the same words I wrote to you last night, re-read the first page of the letter.

I love you.

Friend, don't believe a word I say about others. This is the last despair in me speaking. I can’t have you with someone else, you are all dear to me, your lips and hands are just like your soul. Oh, I don’t give preference to anything about you: your smile, and your thought, and your affection - all this is one and indivisible, don’t divide it. Don't give me (yourself) up in vain. Be mine.

I take your black head in two hands. My eyes, my eyelashes, my lips. (Oh, I remember! The beginning of a smile! Lips slightly parted over the shine of teeth: now you will smile: you are smiling!)

Friend, remember me.

I don’t want memories, I don’t want memory, remembering is the same as forgetting, they don’t remember their hand, it exists. Be! Don't give me up without a fight! Don't give me up to the night, to the street lamps, to the bridges, to the passers-by, to everything, to everyone. I will be faithful to you. Because I don’t want anyone else, I can’t (I won’t want, I can’t). Because no one will give me what you gave me, and I don’t want anything less. Because you are the only one.

My Harlequin, my Adventurer, my Night, my happiness, my passion. Now I’ll lie down and take you with me. At first it will be like this: my head is on your shoulder, you say something, laugh. I take your hand to my lips - you take it away - you don’t take it away - your lips are on mine, deep touch, penetration - the laughter has died down, there are no words - closer, and deeper, and hotter, and more tender - and the completely unbearable bliss that you so beautifully, you last so skillfully.

Read and remember. Close your eyes and remember. Your hand is on my chest, remember. Touching lips to chest.

Friend, I'm all yours.

And then we will laugh and talk and fall asleep, and when I kiss you at night in my sleep, you will tenderly and immediately reach out to me, although you will not open your eyes...

KONSTANTIN BOLESLAVOVICH RODZEVICH (1895 St. Petersburg - 1988, Paris)

A lawyer by training, the son of a high-ranking soldier in the Imperial Russian Army, an NKVD agent in exile, a close friend of S. Efron.

Translator, wood sculptor and artist.

The hero of M. Tsvetaeva’s poems “Poem of the Mountain” and “Poem of the End”, the poem “Attempt of Jealousy” is dedicated to him

At the very beginning of their acquaintance, Tsvetaeva, as if sensing his doom, wrote:
That mountain was the worlds!
The gods take revenge on their likenesses.
The grief started from the mountain.
That mountain is like a tombstone on me.

Konstantin Rodzevich did not look like a “mountain”. Konstantin, a Pole by his father and a Russian by his mother, was handsome, but short in stature. Among Russian emigrants, he was treated with disdain; they called him “Un petit cog, un petit coiffeur” (a rooster, an insignificant hairdresser).

Sergei Efron introduced Marina and Konstantin. Rodzevich and Efron met in the Russian refugee camp of Constantinople, from there Sergei Efron lured Rodzevich to Prague to study.

“Little Casanova,” Efron called Rodzevich.

“It was love at first sight. The passion - mutual - began between us immediately,” Konstantin Rodzevich will tell Ariadne Efron, who found him in Paris, many years later.

But the fleeting romance lasted no more than three months.

“There was not a break, but a divergence. “I preferred an established life,” Rodzevich explained to the curious and married someone else.

Tsvetaeva as wedding gift presented the bride with a small, handwritten book - “Poem of the Mountain”, which she wrote at the peak of her love for Rodzevich. And after some time she gave birth to a son. Marina and Sergei left for Paris.

Konstantin Rodzevich fought in Spain in the ranks of the international brigades, during the occupation of France he participated in the Resistance...

In his old age, Konstantin Rodzevich will write: “It was because of my weakness that our love failed. I, standing off-road, had no opportunity to give her what she was waiting for. She dragged me to heights unattainable for me. It was hard for me to be unreal... Marina gave me a big advance. All this has crystallized now. Now I love her deeper and more.”