by Marina Tzevetaeva

I am glad that I long not for you.
That the heavy sphere of Earth
does not turn under our feet.
I am glad that it’s ok to be funny
— spoiled — and waste no time with games;
not to be choked by a wave of blushing
when our sleeves touch ever so slightly.

I also like that you are undisturbed in my presence
your arms around another woman,
That you don’t ask me to burn in poisoned
flames when I kiss not you;
That, sweetheart, you don’t call my sweet name
any day nor night, at any time,
That in the calm of an Eastern Church
they will never sing for us: hallelujah!

I thank you with my heart and hand
for your — unbeknown to you! — love of me,
For my peace at night, for how seldom
we meet at the sunset hour;
For our non-walks under the moon,
For the sun not over our heads,
For your longing — alas! — not for me,
For my longing — alas! — not for you.

Performed in the film “The Irony”:

It may seem like a stretch at first but I really think when you read it carefully this poem exemplifies the difficulty in identity and rights management.

Here’s a nice instrumental version: