Anna Akhmatova

She was o’er us like a star o’er an ocean, 
Seeking the last, decuman wave with beams,
You gave her name of woe and commotion,
And ne’er – of gladness of our sacred dreams.

At day, she circled over us – a swallow;
A smile – she blossomed on our scarlet lips…
At night, she choked both us, the hollow,
With her cold hand – in different cities’ deeps.

Not touched by single of all glorifications,
Forgetful of the sins’ existing host,
Bend o’er our sleepless bed-heads, with dark passion,
She murmurs verses, desperate and cursed.


Translated by Yevgeny Bonver, July, 2002