Anna Akhmatova
Five years have passed...

Five years have passed — and now the wounds inflicted
By cruel war have just begun to heal.
And now my Russia’s
                                  fields unconstricted
Succumb again to quiet’s frigid feel.

Through darkness of the seaside night the beacons
Directing sailor on his journey blaze.
And at their fire, as if it friendly beckons,
The sailors out to sea now cast their gaze.

Where tank once thundered, now the tractors grumble,
Where all was fire is filled with garden’s scent,
And on the path that once was churned to crumble
The cars now float with journey’s light intent.

And where the spruce, ’midst branches’ mad derangement,
Cried out for vengeance, now the spruce grows green,
And where the heart once ached from sad estrangement,
A cradle-rocking mother singing’s seen.

Again you are a free and mighty nation,
O Russia mine!
                         For ever, though, we’ll store
In people’s treasured memories fond libation
Fermented in the burning years of war.

So for the peace of future generations
From Caspian Sea until the polar ice
As if burnt villages’ commemorations
The skylines of new cities now arise.

Translated by Rupert Moreton