Anna Akhmatova

How it is simple to leave life for ever,
Without thoughts and pains to end to blaze,
But for the Russian poets there was never
Given the right for such a blessed death.
Most likely, a lead would open Heavens
For the winged soul’s non-awaited flight,
Or a brute awe, with paws, covered with hairs, – 
Like out a sponge – press life out the heart.


Translated by Yevgeny Bonver, August, 2002