Anna Akhmatova

The garden's music ranged to me
With dole that's beyond expression.
The frozen oysters smelled with freshness
And sharpness of the northern sea.

He told me, "I'm the best of friends!",
And gently touched my gown's laces.
Oh, how differs from embraces
The easy touching of these hands.

Like that they pet a cat, a bird...
Or watch the girls that run the horses....
And just a quiet laughter poses
Under his lashes' easy gold.

And the distressing fiddles' voice
Sings me from haze that's low flowed,
"Thank holly heaven and rejoice --
You are first time with your beloved."


Translated by Yevgeny Bonver, August, 2000
Edited by Orit Bonver, August 2000