Anna Akhmatova
- A boy said to me..., by Abigail Rappoport
- The boy said me: “how painful it is!”..., by Andrey Kneller
«When my mother dear sent me / Off to the army, / Then my kinfolk also came, / Came a-running: "Where are you going to, my lad? / Where you going? / Vanya, Vanya, please don't go / Into the army! "The Red Army has enough / Bayonets. / The Bolshevik...»
«(A narrative poem) Tra - ta - ta - turn! / Tra - ta - ta - turn! / Marching, marching, marching, marching, / Into chains of iron the links are forming, / In a thundering step they go grimly on, / go grimly on, / go on, / go on / To the last, the main redoubt. Main Street is frantic...»
«The Landowner glares like a ferocious watchdog / The Kulak [rich peasant] snorts through his bulbous nose / The habitual drunk boozes his woes away / The [village] priest frantically whoops and and wails. / / The corrupt journalist spits and hisses / The capitalist sharpens his tusks / ...»
«It’ll sneak up on me, so quiet — / Like the forest during the night. / I’ll bring you the dove, — I’ll hide it / In my apron and bring it inside. I’ll stand in your doorway — inert! / Shame — like the weight of a stone. / But the apron’s too tight for a bird, / And ...»