Anna Akhmatova

On the whitest porch of Eden,
Looking back, he cried, “I wait!”
He bequeathed to me life written
For a pauper and a saint.

And when heavens are transparent,
Sees, while ringing with his wings,
How I share my meal barren
With a bagger who it needs.

And when, as if after battles,
Clouds are in blood above,
He can hear all my prayers
And the words of all my love.


Translated by Yevgeny Bonver, August, 2002