You will hear thunder and remember me,
And think: she wanted storms. The rim
Of the sky will be the colour of hard crimson,
And your heart, as it was then, will be on fire.
That day in Moscow, it will all come true,
when, for the last time, I take my leave,
And hasten to the heights that I have longed for,
Leaving my shadow still to be with you.
Rising from the past, my shadow
Is running in silence to meet me.
Call me a sinner,
Mock me maliciously:
I was your insomnia,
I was your grief.
It is good here: rustle and snow-crunch...
Ski tracks on the splendid finery
of the snow; a memory
that long ages ago
we passed here together.
... he is rewarded with a form of eternal childhood,
with the bounty and vigilance of the stars,
the whole world was his inheritance
and he shared it with everyone.
Regarding myself as a mere echo,
Cave-like, unintelligible and nocturnal . . .
There is a frontier-line in human closeness
That love and passion cannot violate--
Though in silence mouth to mouth be soldered
And passionate devotion cleave the heart.
Here friendship, too, is powerless, and years
Of that sublime and fiery happiness
When the free soul has broken clear
From the slow languor of voluptuousness.
Those striving towards it are demented, and
If the line seem close enough to broach--
Stricken with sadness...Now you understand
Why my heart does not beat beneath your touch.
Tags: complexities-of-love
The whole time I was hoping my silence would fit yours and exclamation marks would gently float across time and space so that boundaries would be crossed; the whole time I was praying you would read my eyes and understand what I was never able to understand. See, we were never about butterflies. We’ve always been about burning stars. All about us is unearthly and radiant.
Anna AkhmatovaBut then he touched the flowers
With the dry tips of his fingers.
"Tell me how men kiss you.
Tell me how you kiss.
Tags: the-visitor russian-poetry the-guest
Posljednji susret bio nam je taj
na obali gdje smo uvijek se sretali.
Bio je visok Nevin vodostaj.
Od poplave su u gradu strepili.
Pričao je o ljetu i o tom
da je za ženu pjesnikom biti - rđavo.
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