Anna Akhmatova
And the Last

(From the "Middle Night Poems")

She was o’er us like a star o’er an ocean,
Seeking the last, decuman wave with beams,
You gave her name of woe and commotion,
And ne’er — of gladness of our sacred dreams.

At day, she circled over us — a swallow;
A smile — she blossomed on our scarlet lips…
At night, she choked both us, the hollow,
With her cold hand — in different cities’ deeps.

Not touched by single of all glorifications,
Forgetful of the sins’ existing host,
Bend o’er our sleepless bed-heads, with dark passion,
She murmurs verses, desperate and cursed.

Translated by Yevgeny Bonver