Everything’s looted, betrayed and traded,
black death’s wing’s overhead.
Everything’s eaten by hunger, unsated,
so why does a light shine ahead?
By day, a mysterious wood, near the town,
breathes out cherry, a cherry perfume.
By night, on July’s sky, deep, and transparent,
new constellations are thrown.
And something miraculous will come
close to the darkness and ruin,
something no-one, no-one, has known,
though we’ve longed for it since we were children.
A poem that is about the humanity that keeps-charity, love, hope, .....everything but it is very worst condition- poet says- Everything’s looted, betrayed and traded, black death’s wing’s overhead.- the Satanic way that sat overhead - misguiding - dragging..from everything to put us in fire ..lovely
The translator deserves credit, too. I suspect that this was a difficult poem to translate into English; furthermore, I suspect that the translator has made an attempt to recapature the form of the poem as well as its sense. If so, this is commendable indeed. Does anyone know?
Fantastic the straight way of criticising those social perverts who never take any part in reformation but always shouting the negative terms to make people misguided from their own way of living. something no-one, no-one, has known, though we’ve longed for it since we were children.... Excellent the utopia which always tries to distract our social strength to keep our existence together with manliness....... Nice write.
Expectations never die out. Half veiled yet strong imagery this poem holds. Liked
Greatest Poetess she IS, all her poems are true honest and I read them with greatest pleasure
I love to read all the poems of AA, the greatest Russian Poetess. She is through and through honest, and she is the greatest Classic Russian Poetess. All inhabitants had left Russia, fleeing to France, but she remain in Russia.
The most honest true Classic Poete is AA, she put all things in poetry, even when her friends, the composer was too humble to meet her
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Hi Frank I have two translations of this poem but this one is a third I don't have and It is clearly the best. Akhmatova frequently refers to miracles in a low-keyed casual way as she does here announcing new constellations and then declaring the miraculous will soon inhabit their town torn by civil war. In real terms, things only got worse. But Akhmatova never abandoned her fellow Russians - SHE STAYED as she wrote proudly in one of her poems. When friends told her the composer Shostakovich was too humble to meet her, she wrote this poem for him SOMETHING MIRACULOUS BURNS IN MUSIC...MUSIC STAYED, EVEN AT MY GRAVE, AND SANG LIKE EARTH'S FIRST SHOWER OF RAIN OR FLOWERS EVERYWHERE ALIVE.