Anna Akhmatova
Flight

For O. A. Kuzmina-Karavaeva

«If we can only reach the shore,
My dear!’ — ‘Silently…»
And so we slipped down the stair,
Not breathing, searching for keys.

Past the place where we once
Danced, and drank the wine,
Past the Senate’s white columns,
To where it was dark as a mine.

«What are you doing, you’re crazy!» —
«No, just in love with you!
This breeze — wide and windy,
Will delight a boat or two!»

Throat constrained with horror,
The skiff carried us in darkness…
A sea-cable’s strong odour
Scorched my quivering nostrils.

«Tell me, you surely must know:
Am I sleeping? So like a dream…»
Only the oars measured blows,
On the Neva’s heavy stream.

But the black sky lightened,
Someone called from a bridge,
With both hands I grasped
The cross’s chain at my breast.

Powerless, I was lifted, like
A young girl, in your arms,
Onto the white yacht’s deck,
To meet day’s incorruptible charms.

Translated by A. S. Kline