And you know, I agree to everything:
I will condemn, I will forget, I will give comfort to the enemy,
Darkness will be light and sin lovely.
Tag: betrayal
Let my heiress have full rights,
Live in my house, sing songs that I composed.
Yet how slowly my strength ebbs,
How the tortured breast craves air.
The love of my friends, my enemies' rancor
And the yellow roses in my bushy garden,
And a lover's burning tendernessall this
I bestow upon you, messenger of dawn.
Also the glory for which I was born,
For which my star, like some whirlwind, soared
And now falls. Look, its falling
Prophesies your power, love and inspiration.
Preserving my generous bequest,
You will live long and worthily.
Thus it will be. You see, I am content,
Be happy, but remember me.
Tag: death dying inheritance bequest
Flowers, cold from the dew,
And autumn's approaching breath,
I pluck for the warm, luxuriant braids,
Which haven't faded yet.
In their nights, fragrantly resinous,
Entwined with delightful mystery,
They will breathe in her springlike
Extraordinary beauty.
But in a whirlwind of sound and fire,
From her shing head they will flutter
And falland before her
They will die, faintly fragrant still.
And, impelled by faithful longing,
My obedient gaze will feast upon them
With a reverent hand,
Love will gather their rotting remains.
Tag: love death dying autumn transience
Forgive me, that I manage badly,
Manage badly but live gloriously,
That I leave traces of myself in my songs,
That I appeared to you in waking dreams.
If you were music, I would listen to you ceaselessly, and my low spirits would brighten up.
Anna AkhmatovaWe learned not to meet anymore,
We don't raise our eyes to one another,
But we ourselves won't guarantee
What could happen to us in an hour.
Tag: meetings
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.
Tag: poetry
Wild honey smells of freedom
The dust - of sunlight
The mouth of a young girl, like a violet
But gold - smells of nothing.
Tag: smells
Sentirai il tuono e mi rammenterai,
penserai: desiderava la bufera...
Sarà una striscia di cielo accesa di rosso,
e il cuore come allora in fiamme.
E ciò accadrà nel giorno moscovita
in cui abbandonerò per sempre la città,
muoverò verso il bramato riparo,
lasciando in mezzo a voi ancora la mia ombra.
Not under foreign skies
Nor under foreign wings protected -
I shared all this with my own people
There, where misfortune had abandoned us.
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