…from the quills of the dead white poets
Anna Akhmatova (1889 – 1966)
(To Alexander Blok)
You, who first stood before the source
With your smile, so deadly stoned!
How tortures us a look, you own, -
The heavy look of the night-birds.
But awful years will soon pass,
You’ll be again and young and careless,
And we’ll preserve the cold, mysterious,
Of minutes, given you once.
Translated by Yevgeny Bonver, 2002