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No, It's Not You I Love So Fervently

No, It's Not You I Love So Fervently

Mikhail Lermontov
Mikhail Lermontov

About Mikhail Lermontov

Mikhail Lermontov (Михаи́л Ю́рьевич Ле́рмонтов, 1814-1841) is considered one of Russia’s greatest Romantic poets. Only twenty-six years old at the time of his death, Lermontov had already established himself as a brilliant poet and thinker, a major prose writer and playwright, the successor of Pushkin, and the founder of Russian psychological prose.
Alongside his dramatic and philosophical works, Lermontov was a master of lyric poetry. His poems are distinguished by musicality, emotional clarity, and a deeply personal tone, expressing love, longing, loneliness, and the beauty of nature with striking intensity and grace. He gave voice to intimate feelings in a way that felt both elevated and profoundly human. Many of his love poems and meditative lyrics remain among the most cherished in Russian literature, valued for their sincerity, elegance, and haunting emotional depth.

About This Poem

This poem is commonly regarded as an address to Lermontov’s cousin Ekaterina Bykhovets, with whom he maintained a tender friendship in the last year of his life. The poem also alludes to the poet’s first love Varvara Lopukhina whose marriage to a different man left him heartbroken.

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Нет, не тебя́ так пы́лко я люблю́,
Не для меня́ красы́ твое́й блиста́нье;
Люблю́ в тебе́ я про́шлое страда́нье
И мо́лодость поги́бшую мою́.

Когда́ поро́й я на тебя́ смотрю́,

В твои́ глаза́ вника́я до́лгим взо́ром,
Таи́нственным я за́нят разгово́ром,
Но не с тобо́й я се́рдцем говорю́.

Я говорю́ с подру́гой ю́ных дней,
В твои́х черта́х ищу́ черты́ други́е,
В уста́х живы́х уста́ давно́ немы́е,
В глаза́х ого́нь уга́снувших оче́й.

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No it’ not you I love so fervently,
The brilliance of your beauty is not for me;
I love in you my past suffering
And my perished youth.

When at times I look at you,

Into your eyes penetrating with my long gaze,
I’m engaged in a secret conversation
But it’ not with you I am speaking through my heart.

I am talking with a friend of the days of my youth,
In your features I am searching for the other’ features,
In your living lips – the lips long since silent,
In your eyes – the fire of those faded eyes.

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