Anna Akhmatova
Sister, I have come to take your place...

"Sister, I have come to take your place,
In the forest, by the fire’s blaze.

Your hair grew gray. Over the years,
Your eyes were dulled and fogged by tears.

You don’t grasp the bird song from afar.
You don’t see the summer lightning or the stars.

Your tambourine no longer plays its song,
And you were scared of silence all along.

Sister, I have come to take your place,
In the forest, by the fire’s blaze.”

“You have come to bury me tonight.
Did you bring a shovel or a spade?

With a flute in hand, you’re walking slow.
I will not accuse you now or chide,

It’s a pity that my voice began to fade,
And then died forever long ago.

Go ahead and put on my attire,
Don’t think twice about my distress,

Let the wind play freely with your hair.
Though your road was hard, you have acquired

The scent of lilac somewhere nonetheless,
And you stand, illumined by this glare.”

And one left, she left the other behind,
Conceding her place, she exhaled

And she groped her way, as if blind,
Down the narrow, unfamiliar trail.

And she felt she was always beside
The bright flame… tambourine in her hand.

And she went, like a banner of white,
Like a lighthouse beam, she went.

Translated by Andrey Kneller