Continuing with the subject of life-marking texts or art pieces, one of them was Wait for Me. I remembered it because I started reading Paul Eluard’s letters to Gala, and they immediately strike you with their overwhelming intensity, even more so in the letters of Gala than Paul’s. This is true, at least, for her early letters written in 1916 when Eluard was at war. She complained that she was beside herself with terror that something bad could happen to him, and begged him to stay somewhere safe, even among the bourgeoisie that he hated, only so that he could be back and she could love him.
Reading those letters made me remember the poem Wait for Me (Жди меня) by the Soviet poet Konstantin Simonov. I wondered if there was a translation, and indeed there is a very good translation by Mike Munford from the UK. In fact, I am really impressed, not merely with the quality of translation, but the very fact that Simonov’s work has been rendered into English and analysed. Munford makes a very important comparison between the poems by Rupert Brooke and Simonov’s, between the moods of two lyrical heroes trapped in the battlefield: while Brooke’s mood is almost suicidal, Simonov is showing the remarkable will to live and laughs in the face of death. One may say, it is no wonder that Brooke died and Simonov survived in the war.
Yet there was more to Wait for Me than meets the eye. As it happens, the story that we read in the poem is somewhat different from the story that was taking place in the poet’s life. Petrarch’s or Dante’s delight in the beauty of their Muses tend to overshadow the fact that their love was unrequited. In case with Wait for Me, we’re likely to read it as a poet’s vow to his beloved to come back against all odds because she faithfully waits for him. Sadly, Valentina Serova, a Soviet actress, for whom the poem was written, was far from this ideal. Even if this was not the case at the start of the war, it would be later, and Simonov the poet could most likely foresee it. Suddenly we catch the glimpse of despair that is shaken off by the sheer force of the same will to live that separated Simonov from other war-time poets before and after him.
As with every good poetry, this text has transcended the immediate context in which it was written. It is no longer just a war-time poem or a poem about war. Even in normal, peaceful life there are plenty of chances to fight and to struggle. Whether men or women, each of us needs this person who can wait – as long as it takes, against all odds, even against themselves.
I urge you to visit Mike’s website, and I am very grateful to him for doing this kind of work.
Konstantin Simonov, analysis of his poetry, and notes on translation.
Wait for Me
by Konstantin Simonov (translated by Mike Munford)
Wait for me, and I’ll come back!
Wait with all you’ve got!
Wait, when dreary yellow rains
Tell you, you should not.
Wait when snow is falling fast,
Wait when summer’s hot,
Wait when yesterdays are past,
Others are forgot.
Wait, when from that far-off place
Letters don’t arrive.
Wait, when those with whom you wait
Doubt if I’m alive.
Wait for me, and I’ll come back!
Wait in patience yet
When they tell you off by heart
That you should forget.
Even when my dearest ones
Say that I am lost,
Even when my friends give up,
Sit and count the cost,
Drink a glass of bitter wine
To the fallen friend –
Wait! And do not drink with them!
Wait until the end!
Wait for me and I’ll come back,
Dodging every fate!
“What a bit of luck!” they’ll say,
Those that would not wait.
They will never understand
How amidst the strife,
By your waiting for me, dear,
You had saved my life.
Only you and I will know
How you got me through.
Simply – you knew how to wait –
No one else but you.
1941
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