Sunshine Has Filled The Room
Sunshine has filled the room
with clear golden specks of dust.
I woke up and remembered,
dear, it was your birthday.
But far beyond my windows
snow has covered the ground,
And made me forget, so now to atone,
I sleep without dreams.
poem by Anna Akhmatova
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The Last Toast
I drink to home, that is lost,
To evil life of mine,
To loneness in which we’re both,
And to your future, fine, --
To lips by which I was betrayed,
To eyes that deathly cold,
To that that the world is bad and that
We were not saved by God.
poem by Anna Akhmatova
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I Saw My Friend At The Front Door
I saw my friend to the front door
I stood in the golden dust.
Momentous sounds issued
From the little belfry close by.
Tossed! Such a made-up word-
What am I, a flower or a letter?
But my eyes already gaze grimly
Into the darkened looking glass.
poem by Anna Akhmatova
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My Way
One goes in straightforward ways,
One in a circle roams:
Waits for a girl of his gone days,
Or for returning home.
But I do go -- and woe is there --
By a way nor straight, nor broad,
But into never and nowhere,
Like trains -- off the railroad.
poem by Anna Akhmatova
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One goes in straightforward ways
One goes in straightforward ways,
One in a circle roams:
Waits for a girl of his gone days,
Or for returning home.
But I do go -- and woe is there --
By a way nor straight, nor broad,
But into never and nowhere,
Like trains -- off the railroad.
poem by Anna Akhmatova
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Departure
Although this land is not my own,
I will remember its inland sea
and the waters that are so cold
the sand as white
as old bones, the pine trees
strangely red where the sun comes down.
I cannot say if it is our love,
or the day, that is ending.
poem by Anna Akhmatova
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So again we triumph!
So again we triumph!
Again we do not come!
Our speeches silent,
Our words, dumb.
Our eyes that have not met
Again, are lost;
And only tears forget
The grip of frost.
A wild-rose bush near Moscow
Knows something of
This pain that will be called
Immortal love.
poem by Anna Akhmatova
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True Tenderness
True tenderness is silent
and can't be mistaken for anything else.
In vain with earnest desire
you cover my shoulders with fur;
In vain you try to persuade me
of the merits of first love.
But I know too well the meaning
of your persistent burning glances.
poem by Anna Akhmatova
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But Listen, I Am Warning You
But listen, I am warning you
I'm living for the very last time.
Not as a swallow, nor a maple,
Not as a reed, nor as a star,
Not as spring water,
Nor as the toll of bells…
Will I return to trouble men
Nor will I vex their dreams again
With my insatiable moans.
poem by Anna Akhmatova
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Let Somebody Else Rest by Southern Sea
Let somebody else rest by southern sea,
Enjoying the paradise land,
It's northerly here, and fall of this year,
I chose to be my girl-friend.
I've carried here the memory sure
Of my last rejecting a date -
The flame, so cold, so easy and pure,
Of my overcoming the fate.
poem by Anna Akhmatova
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