Anna Akhmatova
From A Burnt Notebook

Already beautiful on the bookshelf
Your well-situated sister is set,
But over you is debris of starry hoards
And under you are fiery coals.
How you prayed, how you wanted to live,
How you dreaded the scathing fire,
But all at once your body began trembling,
And your voice, flying off, swore at me.
And just like that, the pines began to rustle
Making reflections in the deep moonlit water,
While around the fires of the sacred spring
Already you led the round-dance across the graves.

Translated by Don Mager