My night – I think of you obsessively,
My day – indifferent: let it be!
I turned and smiled at my destiny
That brought me only misery.
The fumes of yesterday are dire,
The flames that burn me will not die,
It seems to me, this blazing fire
Will not become a sunlit sky.
Shall I endure without conceding,
And curse you for not being there?...
You’re far away. You’ll never see me
Imprisoned in my awful snare.
By Anna Akhmatova
Translation by Andrey Kneller
Anna Akhmatova >