…from the quills of the dead white poets
Anna Akhmatova (1889 – 1966)
I was born in the right time, in whole,
Only this time is one that is blessed,
But great God did not let my poor soul
Live without deceit on this earth.
And therefore, it’s dark in my house,
And therefore, all of my friends,
Like sad birds, in the evening aroused,
Sing of love, that was never on land.
Translated by Yevgeny Bonver, August, 2000
Edited by Dmitry Karshtedt, February, 2001