Irina Odoevtseva
He had said, Goodbye, my darling...

He had said, «Goodbye, my darling. Maybe
I won't come back — ever. Time will tell.»
And I walked off down the lane, not knowing
If this was the Summer Park — or Hell.

Silent. Empty. And the gate is, fastened.
But why should I now ever go home?
Stumbling like a blind man, by the black trees,
Somebody in white begins to roam.

She comes closer... till she stands beside me
It s a statue, bright in the moonglow.
She looks at me with her white eyes staring,
And she asks me in a voice turned low:

«What do you think of our trading places?
If a heart is stone, it doesn’t ache.
You will become stone; I’ll be the live one.
Stand there. Here’s my bow and shield. So take.»

All right,» I say — in a good agreement.
Here s my coat and shoes; they’re just your size.»
Then the statue turns her head to kiss me;
I see the white pupils of her eyes.

Then I notice my lips stop their moving.
My heart’s warm beat doesn’t sound at all.
Shield in hand and bow behind my shoulders,
I’m standing on a white pedestal.

Morning... and the early shuffle of the milkmaids.
Children and officials hurry... Add
Rain and weak wind, and the streetcars ringing
All the usual world of Petrograd.

Lord!... O Lord, I realize thin instant:
I can't stop loving my love, my man.
All in vain I turned into a statue;
Stone can last longer than one's heart can.

And she's leaving now — in my red-checkered
Coat — and humming a melodic strain,
While I still stand here — frozen and naked
In the dismal, pelting, autumn rain.

Translated by Vladimir Markov and Merrill Sparks