Solitude

Photo credit: Wikimedia

So many stones have been thrown at me,
That I'm not frightened of them anymore,
And the pit has become a solid tower,
Tall among tall towers.
I thank the builders,
May care and sadness pass them by.
From here I'll see the sunrise earlier,
Here the sun's last ray rejoices.
And into the windows of my room
The northern breezes often fly.
And from my hand a dove eats grains of wheat...
As for my unfinished page,
The Muse's tawny hand, divinely calm
And delicate, will finish it.

~ Anna Akhmatova

Solitude

Photo credit: Wikimedia

So many stones have been thrown at me,
That I'm not frightened of them anymore,
And the pit has become a solid tower,
Tall among tall towers.
I thank the builders,
May care and sadness pass them by.
From here I'll see the sunrise earlier,
Here the sun's last ray rejoices.
And into the windows of my room
The northern breezes often fly.
And from my hand a dove eats grains of wheat...
As for my unfinished page,
The Muse's tawny hand, divinely calm
And delicate, will finish it.

~ Anna Akhmatova

Lot's Wife

Photo credit: clarita from morguefile.com

Lot's wife looked back and turned into a pillar of salt. - Genesis

Holy Lot was a-going behind God's angel,

He seemed huge and bright on a hill, huge and black.

But the heart of his wife whispered stronger and stranger:

"It's not very late, you have time to look back

At these rose turrets of your native Sodom,

The square where you sang, and the yard where you span,

The windows looking from your cozy home

Where you bore children for your dear man."

She looked -- and her eyes were instantly bound

By pain -- they couldn't see any more at all:

Her fleet feet grew into the stony ground,

Her body turned into a pillar of salt.

Who'll mourn her as one of Lot's family members?

Doesn't she seem the smallest of losses to us?

But deep in my heart I will always remember

One who gave her life up for one single glance.

~ Anna Akhmatova

Lot's Wife

Photo credit: clarita from morguefile.com

Lot's wife looked back and turned into a pillar of salt. - Genesis

Holy Lot was a-going behind God's angel,

He seemed huge and bright on a hill, huge and black.

But the heart of his wife whispered stronger and stranger:

"It's not very late, you have time to look back

At these rose turrets of your native Sodom,

The square where you sang, and the yard where you span,

The windows looking from your cozy home

Where you bore children for your dear man."

She looked -- and her eyes were instantly bound

By pain -- they couldn't see any more at all:

Her fleet feet grew into the stony ground,

Her body turned into a pillar of salt.

Who'll mourn her as one of Lot's family members?

Doesn't she seem the smallest of losses to us?

But deep in my heart I will always remember

One who gave her life up for one single glance.

~ Anna Akhmatova

"You'll Live, But I'll Not..."

Photo credit: psbjj from morguefile.com

You'll live, but I'll not; perhaps,

The final turn is that.

Oh, how strongly grabs us

The secret plot of fate.

They differently shot us:

Each creature has its lot,

Each has its order, robust, --

A wolf is always shot.

In freedom, wolves are grown,

But deal with them is short:

In grass, in ice, in snow, --

A wolf is always shot.

Don't cry, oh, friend my dear,

If, in the hot or cold,

From tracks of wolves, you'll hear

My desperate recall.

~ Anna Akhmatova

(Translated by Yevgeny Bonver)

____________________________________

Fate, Chance, God's Will - we all try to account for our lives somehow. What are the chances that two raindrops, flung from the heavens, will merge on a windowpane? Gotta be Fate. ~ Robert Brault

"You'll Live, But I'll Not..."

Photo credit: psbjj from morguefile.com

You'll live, but I'll not; perhaps,

The final turn is that.

Oh, how strongly grabs us

The secret plot of fate.

They differently shot us:

Each creature has its lot,

Each has its order, robust, --

A wolf is always shot.

In freedom, wolves are grown,

But deal with them is short:

In grass, in ice, in snow, --

A wolf is always shot.

Don't cry, oh, friend my dear,

If, in the hot or cold,

From tracks of wolves, you'll hear

My desperate recall.

~ Anna Akhmatova

(Translated by Yevgeny Bonver)

____________________________________

Fate, Chance, God's Will - we all try to account for our lives somehow. What are the chances that two raindrops, flung from the heavens, will merge on a windowpane? Gotta be Fate. ~ Robert Brault

You Will Hear Thunder

Photo credit: oldgreyseawolf from morguefile.com

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.

~ Anna Akhmatova

______________________________________________

Pleasure is the flower that passes; remembrance, the lasting perfume. ~ Jean de Boufflers

You Will Hear Thunder

Photo credit: oldgreyseawolf from morguefile.com

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.

~ Anna Akhmatova

______________________________________________

Pleasure is the flower that passes; remembrance, the lasting perfume. ~ Jean de Boufflers

Somewhere there is a simple life

Photo credit: komgrit from morguefile.com

Somewhere there is a simple life and a world,

Transparent, warm and joyful. . .

There at evening a neighbor talks with a girl

Across the fence, and only the bees can hear

This most tender murmuring of all.

But we live ceremoniously and with difficulty

And we observe the rites of our bitter meetings,

When suddenly the reckless wind

Breaks off a sentence just begun --

But not for anything would we exchange this splendid

Granite city of fame and calamity,

The wide rivers of glistening ice,

The sunless, gloomy gardens,

And, barely audible, the Muse's voice.

~ Anna Akhmatova

(translated by Judith Hemschemeyer)

_________________________________________

To find the universal elements enough; to find the air and the water exhilarating; to be refreshed by a morning walk or an evening saunter... to be thrilled by the stars at night; to be elated over a bird's nest or a wildflower in spring - these are some of the rewards of the simple life. ~ John Burroughs

Somewhere there is a simple life

Photo credit: komgrit from morguefile.com

Somewhere there is a simple life and a world,

Transparent, warm and joyful. . .

There at evening a neighbor talks with a girl

Across the fence, and only the bees can hear

This most tender murmuring of all.

But we live ceremoniously and with difficulty

And we observe the rites of our bitter meetings,

When suddenly the reckless wind

Breaks off a sentence just begun --

But not for anything would we exchange this splendid

Granite city of fame and calamity,

The wide rivers of glistening ice,

The sunless, gloomy gardens,

And, barely audible, the Muse's voice.

~ Anna Akhmatova

(translated by Judith Hemschemeyer)

_________________________________________

To find the universal elements enough; to find the air and the water exhilarating; to be refreshed by a morning walk or an evening saunter... to be thrilled by the stars at night; to be elated over a bird's nest or a wildflower in spring - these are some of the rewards of the simple life. ~ John Burroughs

Everything

Photo credit: veggiegretz from morguefile.com

Everything’s looted, betrayed and traded,
black death’s wing’s overhead.
Everything’s eaten by hunger, unsated,
so why does a light shine ahead?

By day, a mysterious wood, near the town,
breathes out cherry, a cherry perfume.
By night, on July’s sky, deep, and transparent,
new constellations are thrown.

And something miraculous will come
close to the darkness and ruin,
something no-one, no-one, has known,
though we’ve longed for it since we were children.

-- Anna Akhmatova

Everything

Photo credit: veggiegretz from morguefile.com

Everything’s looted, betrayed and traded,
black death’s wing’s overhead.
Everything’s eaten by hunger, unsated,
so why does a light shine ahead?

By day, a mysterious wood, near the town,
breathes out cherry, a cherry perfume.
By night, on July’s sky, deep, and transparent,
new constellations are thrown.

And something miraculous will come
close to the darkness and ruin,
something no-one, no-one, has known,
though we’ve longed for it since we were children.

-- Anna Akhmatova

I Taught Myself To Live Simply

I taught myself to live simply and wisely,
to look at the sky and pray to God,
and to wander long before evening
to tire my superfluous worries.
When the burdocks rustle in the ravine
and the yellow-red rowanberry cluster droops
I compose happy verses
about life's decay, decay and beauty.
I come back. The fluffy cat
licks my palm, purrs so sweetly
and the fire flares bright
on the saw-mill turret by the lake.
Only the cry of a stork landing on the roof
occasionally breaks the silence.
If you knock on my door
I may not even hear.
- by Anna Akhmatova

I Taught Myself To Live Simply

I taught myself to live simply and wisely,
to look at the sky and pray to God,
and to wander long before evening
to tire my superfluous worries.
When the burdocks rustle in the ravine
and the yellow-red rowanberry cluster droops
I compose happy verses
about life's decay, decay and beauty.
I come back. The fluffy cat
licks my palm, purrs so sweetly
and the fire flares bright
on the saw-mill turret by the lake.
Only the cry of a stork landing on the roof
occasionally breaks the silence.
If you knock on my door
I may not even hear.
- by Anna Akhmatova