Quotes from Anna Akhmatova

Ahora sé cómo se desvanecen los rostros, cómo bajo los párpados anida el terror, cómo el dolor traza en las mejillas rudas páginas cuneiformes, cómo unos rizos cenicientos y negros se tornan plateados de repente, la sonrisa se marchita en los labios dóciles y en una risa seca tiembla el pavor. y no sólo por mí rezo, sino por quienes permanecieron allí conmigo, en el frío feroz y en el infierno de Julio, bajo el muro rojo y ciego

No sadness, my soul's no more of this world.

But don't raise your eyes in defiance, Protect my life, my dear. They're brighter than first violets, But deadly to me, I fear.

You're the sinner, seeing the heavenly, Sweetest dream, before passing away…

I am a Bard..." (From Avetik Isaakian, Armenian Poetry) I am a bard – I am a heaven bird, I need no any richness of the world. I love a flower and so charming lass In aromatic springs that never pass. I love a whisper, very gentle and long, And, in full silence, a despondent song.

Each and every day, I get One letter like a bride. I'm responding to my friend, Writing late at night: "On my way into the dark, I've stopped in white death's den. My dear, don't leave an evil mark On another man." And a brilliant star gleams Between two trees at night, Calmly promising that dreams Will soon be satisfied.

O, insomnia, you've come to me anew! And your expression is, like always, frozen. Tell me, beauty, tell me, outlaw - you, Don't you like the songs I've chosen?  

Is this why, for countless days, In my arms I carried you, Is this why your strength had blazed Through your lively eyes of blue!

But what would it have cost you to make people happy and agree that you'd had an affair?" She replied very gravely, "I have lived my own unique life, and my life lacks nothing; it has no need to borrow from other people

What was in our stars That destined us for sorrow?

You alone were my fate, I would have done anything for you.

He was jealous, fearful and tender, He loved me like God's only light, And that she not sing of the past times He killed my bird colored white. He said, in the lighthouse at sundown: "Love me, laugh and write poetry!" And I buried the joyous songbird Behind a round well near a tree. I promised that I would not mourn her. But my heart turned to stone without choice, And it seems to me that everywhere And always I'll hear her sweet voice.

True love's memory, You are heavy! In your smoke I sing and burn, And the rest -- is only fire To keep the chilled soul warm. To keep warm the sated body, They need my tears for this Did I for this sing your song, God? Did I take part of love for this? Let me drink of such a poison, That I would be deaf and dumb, And my unglorious glory Wash away to the final crumb.

I didn't know that the moon was in on everything.

Instead of wisdom -- experience, bare, That does not slake thirst, is not wet. Youth's gone -- like a Sunday prayer. Is it mine to forget? On how many desert roads have searched I With him who wasn't dear for me, How many bows gave in church I For him, who had well loved me. I've become more oblivious than inviting, Quietly years swim. Lips unkissed, eyes unsmiling -- Nothing will give me back him.

I live for two things in life: gossip and metaphysics.

Insomnia is when both sides of the pillow feel hot

I have ceased and desisted from smiling The frosty wind chills lips - say so long To one hope of which will be lesser, Instead there will be one more song. And this song, without my volition, I will give out for laughter and parable, For this that the silence of love Is to me simply unbearable.

You haunt me still somehow, I've saved each word from you. — Anna Akhmatova, White Flock: Poetry of Anna Akhmatova . Translated by Andrey Kneller (CreateSpace Independent Publishing Platform July 30, 2013)

Oh, this was a cold day In Peter's wonderful town! The shadow grew dense, and the sundown Like purple fire lay. Let him not want my eyes fair Prophetic and never-changing All life long verse he'll be catching - My conceited lips' empty prayer.

This way I prayed: "Slake the dumb thirst Of singing with a sweet libation!" But to the earthling of the earth There can be no liberation. Like smoke from sacrifice, that it could not Fly Strength- and Glory-ward -- alas - But only clouded at the feet And, as if praying, kissed the grass. Thus I, O Lord, before thee bow: Will reach the fire of the sky My lashes that are closed for now And muteness utter and divine?

Wiem ju?, jak si? twarz zapada w sobie, Jak wzrok gasi b?onka strachu szklista, Jak cierpienie na policzkach ??obi Twarde znaki klinowego pisma, Jak si? jasne albo czarne w?osy W mgnieniu oka w srebro zmieni? mog?, Jak si? u?miech z pokornych warg p?oszy I jak suchy ?miech dygocze trwog?. I nie modl? si? za siebie, Bo?e: Za nas wszystkie, ustawione sznurem W skwarze lipca i w styczniowym mrozie Pod czerwonym ociemnia?ym murem.

How can you look at Nieva, How can on the bridges you rise? With a reason I'm sad since the time You appeared before my eyes. Sharp are black angels' wings, The last judgment is coming soon, And raspberry fires, like roses, In the white snow bloom.

I do not count mortal days Under the roof of a chilled empty building, I'm reading the Apostles' words, Words of Psalm-singer I am reading. Sleet is fluffy, and stars turn blue, And more marvelous is each meeting -- And in the Bible a leaf On Song of Songs is sitting.