Anna-Blanka, A Letter To Edinburgh - Translation (Rus.) - Poem by Lyudmila Purgina
By Lidiya Lyubomirskaya,
A letter to Edinburgh
With her whitish veil a winter
Covered all fields behind the window...
I, alone, as usual, am sitting
And looking through my old album.
The sun has slided to decline,
The night descended on the town...
And here are the letters... but
They all are filled with losses only...
They couldn't be send to the adressee...
The clock is striking... And anew
I send my wishes once to meet,
To distant, cold Edinburgh.
... My snowy, cold idol melts,
When rays of spring sun touches it...
And to my undermoon world then
The other dreams are coming in...
They are all casted by such words:
'The night song of prophetic birds...'
As the entreaty relentless, and more
By the flashlights of summer dawns.
My head as from red heat is burned,
I write with shivering pale hand:
'Say to me, please, again your words,
My dear, close, distant, man...' '
Comments about Anna-Blanka, A Letter To Edinburgh - Translation (Rus.) by Lyudmila Purgina
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
Still I Rise
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Edgar Allan Poe
Stopping By Woods On A Snowy Evening
Do Not Stand At My Grave And Weep
Mary Elizabeth Frye