“A loss, but who still mourns the breath of one woman, or laments one wife? Though my heart never can forget, how, for one look, she gave up her life.” LooksHeartStillsLossForgetWifeMy HeartBreathsMournGave UpOne WomanLament Author:Anna Akhmatova
“The word dropped like a stone on my still living breast. Confess: I was prepared, am somehow ready for the test.” StillsReadyStonesTestsPreparedBreasts Author:Anna Akhmatova
“The word landed with a stony thud Onto my still-beating breast. Nevermind, I was prepared, I will manage with the rest. I have a lot of work to do today; I need to slaughter memory, Turn my living soul to stone Then teach myself to live again. . . But how. The hot summer rustles Like a carnival outside my window; I have long had this premonition Of a bright day and a deserted house.” NeedsLongStillsSoulTodayTurnsHouseMemoriesTeachSummerStonesWindowHotPreparedManageBreastsSlaughterDesertedPremonitionCarnivalsHot SummerBright DaysNevermind Author:Anna Akhmatova
“A land not mine, still forever memorable, the waters of its ocean chill and fresh. Sand on the bottom whiter than chalk, and the air drunk, like wine, late sun lays bare the rosy limbs of the pinetrees. Sunset in the ethereal waves: I cannot tell if the day is ending, or the world, or if the secret of secrets is inside me again.” IfsWorldStillsWaterSecretSunForeverAirLandMinesOceanLateWineLaysBottomWaveDrunkMemorableSandSunsetLimbsChillEtherealRosyChalk Author:Anna Akhmatova
“Though you are three times more beautiful than angels, Though you are the sister of the river willows, I will kill you with my singing, Without spilling your blood on the ground. Not touching you with my hand, Not giving you one glance, I will stop loving you, But with your unimaginable groans I will finally slake my thirst. From her, who wandered the earth before me, Crueler than ice, more fiery than flame, From her, who still exists in the ether— From her you will set me free.” GivingStillsHandsEarthBeautifulThreeBloodSingingAngelRiversIceFlamesTouchingThirstGlancesThree TimesLoving YouFieryUnimaginableSpillingStop Loving YouTouching You Author:Anna Akhmatova
“Flowers, cold from the dew, And autumn's approaching breath, I pluck for the warm, luxuriant braids, Which haven't faded yet. In their nights, fragrantly resinous, Entwined with delightful mystery, They will breathe in her springlike Extraordinary beauty. But in a whirlwind of sound and fire, From her shing head they will flutter And falland before her They will die, faintly fragrant still. And, impelled by faithful longing, My obedient gaze will feast upon them With a reverent hand, Love will gather their rotting remains.” StillsHandsNightDiesFallSoundFireMysteryHavensFlowerColdBreathsRemainsLongingExtraordinaryWarmBreatheFaithfulAutumnDelightfulDewObedientFadedPluckRottingWhirlwindEntwinedBraidsExtraordinary Beauty Author:Anna Akhmatova
