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« Pale Fire | Main | Breaking the Waves »

Akhmatova, "Эта встреча никем не воспета"

A work ("This tryst of ours no one has sung") by this Russian poet.  You can read the original here.

This tryst of ours no one has sung; 
Of song bereft has grief then waned.  
Cool summer has old warmth disdained,   
As if a new life has begun.  

The sky seems but a stone-set vault, 
By golden flames so wounded red; 
More than I need my daily bread, 
A single word this sky I fault.  

My soul enliven with your words,  
O you beneath the dew-swept sun:  
Not out of passion, not for fun,  
But for great love while on this earth.  

Reader Comments (2)

очень неплохо)

April 13, 2013 | Unregistered Commentersome Russian

Спасибо, Наташа!

April 13, 2013 | Registered Commenterdeeblog

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