Wait for Me by Konstantin Simonov

Maurits Cornelis Escher Puddle 1952

How are they to understand
Those who could not wait,
It was you, not Fortune’s hand,
Who saved me from my fate?

Wait for me and I will come,
Wait with might and main;
Wait when autumn’s drizzles drum
Dreary on the pane;
Wait in winter’s blinding snow,
Wait in summer’s heat,
Wait when others long ago
Have recognized defeat.
Wait when no more letters come
From places far away,
Wait when tortured nerves go numb
From waiting every day.
Wait for me and I will come.
In no least thought abet
Those who to the strain succumb
And urge you to forget.
Let mother, let my son lament
My all to certain loss;
Let my closest friends assent
And with a hasty toss,
Shake a tear and gulp a drink
In memory of me.
Wait, and do not dare to think
I’m in eternity.
Wait for me and I will come
Though thrice my doom be struck.
Among the weaker waiters some
Will call my coming ‘luck’.
How are they to understand
Those who could not wait,
It was you, not Fortune’s hand,
Who saved me from my fate?
We alone will know the truth,
Only you and I:
No one else could wait like you-
And so I did not die.

Konstantin Simonov 1941 (From a 1969 issue of Sputnik)

Image:  Puddle, Maurits Cornelis Escher (1952)

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