When with a strong but tired hand
In dreary capital of nation
Upon the whiteness of the page
I did record my recantations,

And wind into the window round
Poured in a wet and silent stream
The sky was burning, burning bright
With smoky dawn, it did so seem.

I did not look at the Nieva,
The dawn-drenched granite did not view,
And it appeared that that I, awake, my
Unforgettable, saw you...

But then the unexpected night
Covered the before-autumn town,
That, so as to assist my flight,
The ashen shadows melted down.

I only took with me the cross,
That you had given on day of treason
That wormwood steppe should be in bloom
And winds, like sirens, sing in season.

And here upon an empty wall
He keeps me from the broodings dour
And I don't fear to recall
Anything - even the final hour.

By Anna Akhmatova
Translated from Russian by ilya Shambat
https://sites.google.com/site/ibshambat

--- SoupGate-Win32 v1.05
* Origin: www.darkrealms.ca (1:229/2)

From: ibshambat@gmail.com

I remember you only rarely
And your fate I do not review
But the mark won't be stripped from my soul
Of the meaningless meeting with you.

Your red house I avoid on purpose,
Your red house murky river beside,
But I know, that I am disturbing
Gravely your heart-pierced respite.

Would it weren't you that, on my lips pressing,
Prayed of love, and for love did wish,
Would it weren't you that with golden verses
Immortalized my anguish

Over future I do secret magic
If the evening is truly blue,
And I divine a second meeting,
Unavoidable meeting with you.

By Anna Akhmatova
Translated from Russian by Ilya Shambat https://sites.google.com/site/ibshambat/

--- SoupGate-Win32 v1.05
* Origin: www.darkrealms.ca (1:229/2)