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.  

Comments

[some Russian]

очень неплохо)

[deeblog]

Спасибо, Наташа!