Anna Akhmatova
By the early sunrise seized...

By the early sunrise seized,
I sing of love aloud,
In the garden, on my knees
Weeding goosefoot out.

I tear it out and I hurl —
Pardon this offense.
I see a little barefoot girl
Crying by the fence.

Voice of sorrow rings and swells,
Filling me with dread,
Stronger grows the tepid smell
Of the weed now dead.

Stone, not bread, will be my prize
To accept with poise,
Up above me, just the skies,
And with me, your voice.

Translated by Andrey Kneller