Anna Akhmatova
That’s how I am...

That’s how I am. I could wish for you someone other,
Better.
          I trade in happiness no longer...
Charlatans, pushers at the sales!..
We stayed peacefully in Sochi,
Such nights, there, came to me,
And I kept hearing such bells!

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Over Asia were spring mists, and
Tulips were carpeting with brilliance
Several hundreds of miles.
O, what can I do with this cleanness,
This simple untaintable scene? O,
What can I do with these souls!
I could never become a spectator.
I’d push myself, sooner or later,
Through every prohibited gate.
Healer of tender hurts, other women’s
Husbands’ sincerest
Friend, disconsolate
Widow of many. No wonder
I’ve a grey crown, and my sun-burn
Frightens the people I pass.
But — like her — I shall have to part with
My arrogance — like Marina the martyr —
I too must drink of emptiness.

You will come under a black mantle,
With a green and terrible candle,
Screening your face from my sight...
Soon the puzzle will be over:
Whose hand is in the white glove, or
Who sent the guest who calls by night.

Translated by Donald Michael Thomas