Anna Akhmatova
- Careful, puss, there’s an owl..., by Robert Chandler
- There’s an owl sewn — don’t stir..., by Andrey Kneller
«All deserts are one tribe, from the beginning / of time, but Arabia, Syria, Gobi — / they're only ripples of the vast Sahara / wave that roared its satanic spite. The Red Sea heaves, and the Persian Gulf, / and Pamir stands thick with snow, / but Sahara's sand-floods / run straight to...»
«Unmoved by bullets, confrontations, / Unmoved by songs of celebration! / And so I gape, with admiration: / “What people! What a nation!” A nation — such, that with elation — / A mouthpiece of vastness stationed — / A poet, gapes with adoration, / Dumbstruck: O, what a nation! ...»
«Tears in the eyes appear! / The cry of love and pain! / O Czechia in tears! / O blood that mires Spain! O mountain of grime, — / All colors rendered black! / O Lord, it's time — it's time — / To give your ticket back! Refusing life — I'm done. / In Bedlam of non-men, / I ...»
«Alone I stare into the frost’s white face. / It’s going nowhere, and I — from nowhere. / Everything ironed flat, pleated without a wrinkle: / Miraculous, the breathing plain. Meanwhile the sun squints at this starched poverty — / The squint itself consoled, at ease... / ...»