Письмо Фейнмана своей жене
Ричард Фейнман (1918-1988) - выдающийся американский физик. Это один из самых блестящих физиков-теоретиков 20-го века, лауреат Нобелевской премии, знаменитый своими работами по квантовой механике, квантовой теории поля, физике элементарных частиц, квантовой гравитации, сверхтекучести, квантовым компьютерам, учебнику "Фейнмановские лекции по физике" и многими другими достижениями. Кроме десятков статей и учебников, он написал и две интереснейшие автобиографии: "Вы, конечно, шутите, мистер Фейнман!" и "Какое тебе дело до того, что думают другие?". А еще он рисовал, играл на бонго, вскрывал сейфы в атомном проекте в Лос-Аламосе, занимался химией и биологией, расшифровывал иероглифы майя, участвовал в расследовании катастрофы "Челенджера", и прожил одну из самых интересных жизней, которые только можно представить.
Его первая жена, Арлин, умерла от туберкулеза в июне 1945 года, через несколько лет после их свадьбы. Когда они поженились, уже было известно, что она неизлечимо больна.
Через 16 месяцев после ее смерти, в октябре 1946 года Фейнман написал ей письмо и заклеил его в конверт, который никто не открывал вплоть до его смерти. Конверт был весь измят и изношен; предполагают, что он носил его с собой несколько лет.
Вряд ли какое-то придуманное литературное произведение может соперничать с этим письмом. Извините, что только на английском. Я не решусь переводить его.
October 17, 1946
D’Arline,
I adore you, sweetheart.
I know how much you like to hear that - but I don't only write it because you like it - I write it because it makes me warm all over inside to write it to you.
It is such a terribly long time since I last wrote to you - almost two years but I know you'll excuse me because you understand how I am, stubborn and realistic; and I thought there was no sense to writing.
But now I know my darling wife that it is right to do what I have delayed in doing, and that I have done so much in the past. I want to tell you I love you. I want to love you. I always will love you.
I find it hard to understand in my mind what it means to love you after you are dead - but I still want to comfort and take care of you - and I want you to love me and care for me. I want to have problems to discuss with you - I want to do little projects with you. I never thought until just now that we can do that. What should we do. We started to learn to make clothes together - or learn Chinese - or getting a movie projector. Can't I do something now? No. I am alone without you and you were the "idea-woman" and general instigator of all our wild adventures.
When you were sick you worried because you could not give me something that you wanted to and thought I needed. You needn’t have worried. Just as I told you then there was no real need because I loved you in so many ways so much. And now it is clearly even more true - you can give me nothing now yet I love you so that you stand in my way of loving anyone else - but I want you to stand there. You, dead, are so much better than anyone else alive.
I know you will assure me that I am foolish and that you want me to have full happiness and don't want to be in my way. I'll bet you are surprised that I don't even have a girlfriend (except you, sweetheart) after two years. But you can't help it, darling, nor can I - I don't understand it, for I have met many girls and very nice ones and I don't want to remain alone - but in two or three meetings they all seem ashes. You only are left to me. You are real.
My darling wife, I do adore you.
I love my wife. My wife is dead.
Rich.
PS Please excuse my not mailing this - but I don't know your new address.
Почти 9 лет назад я был в Нью-Йорке и приехал в Фар Рокэвей, небольшой город в окрестностях Нью-Йорка, в котором родился и вырос Фейнман (собственно поэтому я туда и приехал). Там я сделал одну из своих самых любимых фотографий:
Его первая жена, Арлин, умерла от туберкулеза в июне 1945 года, через несколько лет после их свадьбы. Когда они поженились, уже было известно, что она неизлечимо больна.
Через 16 месяцев после ее смерти, в октябре 1946 года Фейнман написал ей письмо и заклеил его в конверт, который никто не открывал вплоть до его смерти. Конверт был весь измят и изношен; предполагают, что он носил его с собой несколько лет.
Вряд ли какое-то придуманное литературное произведение может соперничать с этим письмом. Извините, что только на английском. Я не решусь переводить его.
October 17, 1946
D’Arline,
I adore you, sweetheart.
I know how much you like to hear that - but I don't only write it because you like it - I write it because it makes me warm all over inside to write it to you.
It is such a terribly long time since I last wrote to you - almost two years but I know you'll excuse me because you understand how I am, stubborn and realistic; and I thought there was no sense to writing.
But now I know my darling wife that it is right to do what I have delayed in doing, and that I have done so much in the past. I want to tell you I love you. I want to love you. I always will love you.
I find it hard to understand in my mind what it means to love you after you are dead - but I still want to comfort and take care of you - and I want you to love me and care for me. I want to have problems to discuss with you - I want to do little projects with you. I never thought until just now that we can do that. What should we do. We started to learn to make clothes together - or learn Chinese - or getting a movie projector. Can't I do something now? No. I am alone without you and you were the "idea-woman" and general instigator of all our wild adventures.
When you were sick you worried because you could not give me something that you wanted to and thought I needed. You needn’t have worried. Just as I told you then there was no real need because I loved you in so many ways so much. And now it is clearly even more true - you can give me nothing now yet I love you so that you stand in my way of loving anyone else - but I want you to stand there. You, dead, are so much better than anyone else alive.
I know you will assure me that I am foolish and that you want me to have full happiness and don't want to be in my way. I'll bet you are surprised that I don't even have a girlfriend (except you, sweetheart) after two years. But you can't help it, darling, nor can I - I don't understand it, for I have met many girls and very nice ones and I don't want to remain alone - but in two or three meetings they all seem ashes. You only are left to me. You are real.
My darling wife, I do adore you.
I love my wife. My wife is dead.
Rich.
PS Please excuse my not mailing this - but I don't know your new address.
Почти 9 лет назад я был в Нью-Йорке и приехал в Фар Рокэвей, небольшой город в окрестностях Нью-Йорка, в котором родился и вырос Фейнман (собственно поэтому я туда и приехал). Там я сделал одну из своих самых любимых фотографий: