Read Evening: Poetry of Anna Akhmatova Online
Authors: Anna Akhmatova
Evening: Poetry of Anna Akhmatova (8 page)
Its end and ravens’ cries
Are now resounding near.
I didn’t sleep this night,
Too late for sleep
, I fear…
Oh, how unbearably white
Is this curtain here.
Welcome!
1909
II
The same voice and gaze aglow,
That same flaxen hair.
As it was a year ago.
Light-rays streaming through the air
Colors on white walls bestow…
Fragrances of lilies flow
And the simple words you share.
1909
Читая Гамлета
I
У кладбища направо пылил пустырь,
А за ним голубела река.
Ты сказал мне: "Ну что ж, иди в монастырь
Или замуж за дурака..."
Принцы только такое всегда говорят,
Но я эту запомнила речь,-
Пусть струится она сто веков подряд
Горностаевой мантией с плеч.
1909 Киев
II
И как будто по ошибке
Я сказала: "Ты..."
Озарила тень улыбки
Милые черты.
От подобных оговорок
Всякий вспыхнет взор...
Я люблю тебя, как сорок
Ласковых сестёр.
1909
I
The graveyard, wasteland, and the shore,
Where the river shines cool and blue.
You told me: “Get to a nunnery or
Find a fool to marry you…”
That’s the sort of thing princes say, I know,
But I’ll never forget this one, –
Like an ermine mantle let your words shine and flow
For many years, and on, and on.
1909 Kiev
II
As if by mistake, beguiled,
I used the familiar “You…”
A flashing shadow of a smile
Lit up your face anew.
When one blunders so absurdly,
Gazes will alight…
Still I love you
like some forty
Tender sisters might.
1909
***
И когда друг друга проклинали
В страсти, раскаленной добела,
Оба мы еще не понимали,
Как земля для двух людей мала,
И что память яростная мучит,
Пытка сильных - огненный недуг! -
И в ночи бездонной сердце учит
Спрашивать: о, где ушедший друг?
А когда, сквозь волны фимиама,
Хор гремит, ликуя и грозя,
Смотрят в душу строго и упрямо
Те же неизбежные глаза.
1909
And cursing each other with brute
Passion, white-hot all through,
Neither one of us understood
How small the earth was for two,
That memory torments with spite,
Afflicting the most strong-hearted,
That one learns to plead in the night:
Where has my friend departed?
And as the c
hoir voices rise,
Happy and menacing, that instant,
The same two stern and certain eyes
Survey the soul, persistent.
1909
Первое возвращение
На землю саван тягостный возложен,
Торжественно гудят колокола,
И снова дух смятен и потревожен
Истомной скукой Царского Села.
Пять лет прошло. Здесь все мертво и немо,
Как будто мира наступил конец.
Как навсегда исчерпанная тема,
В смертельном сне покоится дворец.
1910
A heavy shroud is placed onto the ground,
The bells are droning in a solemn show,
The spirit is again confused and troubled
By weary boredom of the Tsarskoe Selo.
Five years have passed. And all is dumb and dead here,
The world has reached the end, it seems.
The theme exhausted for all time is set here,
The palace rests now in a mortal dream.
1910
***
Я и плакала и каялась,
Хоть бы с неба грянул гром!
Сердце темное измаялось
В нежилом дому твоем.
Боль я знаю нестерпимую,
Стыд обратного пути...
Страшно, страшно к нелюбимому,
Страшно к тихому войти,
А склонюсь к нему нарядная,
Ожерельями звеня;
Только спросит: «Ненаглядная!
Где молилась за меня?»
1911
I cried and I even repented,
Let the sky thunder and groan!
My dark heart just couldn’t stand it
In your forsaken vacant home.
I know a pain that is unbearable,
The shame of returning stunned…
How frightening it is, how terrible -
To the unloved, to the quiet one.
If I bend down by him, sparkling,
As my necklace jingles free;
He will only ask me: “Darling!
Where was it you prayed for me?”
1911
***
Меня покинул в новолунье
Мой друг любимый. Ну так что ж!
Шутил: «Канатная плясунья!
Как ты до мая доживёшь?»
Ему ответила, как брату,
Я, не ревнуя, не ропща,
Но не заменят мне утрату
Четыре новые плаща.
Пусть страшен путь мой, пусть опасен,
Ещё страшнее путь тоски…
Как мой китайский зонтик красен,
Натерты мелом башмачки!
Оркестр весёлое играет,
И улыбаются уста.
Но сердце знает, сердце знает,
Что ложа пятая пуста!
Ноябрь 1911
Царское Село
At the new moon, he walked out,
The friend I loved. I’ll be okay!
“Tightrope dancer,” He joked loud,
“How will you survive till May?”
As to a brother, I replied then,
Without gripes or jealousy,
But four new cloaks just aren’t likely
To replace this loss for me.
Let there be danger where I walk,
The way of grief fills me with dread…
The bottom of my shoes are chalked,
My Chinese parasol shines red!
The orchestra plays gleefully
An
d lips are smiling with delight
And yet the heart, the heart can see
The fifth lodge is unoccupied!
November 1911,
Tsarskoe Selo
***
Мурка, не ходи, там сыч
На подушке вышит,
Мурка серый, не мурлычь,
Дедушка услышит.
Няня, не горит свеча,
И скребутся мыши.
Я боюсь того сыча,
Для чего он вышит?
1911
There’s an owl sewn - don’t stir -
Onto the pillow near us,
O, gray Moorka, do not purr,
My grandfather will hear us.
Nanny, candles will not burn,
Mice are scratching, fearless,
Why was that owl ever sewn?
I’m scared of his appearance.
1911
Anna Akhmatova
(June 23, 1889 - March 5, 1966) is considered by many to be one of the greatest Russian poets of the Silver Age. Although true fame and recognition did not come until her later, “Evening,” her first poetry collection, had caught the attention of many prominent literary critics of the time and helped to solidify her career as a writer. One of the forefront leaders of the Acmeism movement, which focused on rigorous form and directness of words, she was a master of conveying raw emotion in her portrayals of everyday situations. Her works range from short lyric love poetry to longer, more complex cycles, such as Requiem, a tragic depiction of the Stalinist terror. During the time of heavy censorship and persecution, her poetry gave voice to the Russian people. To this day, she remains one of Russia’s most beloved poets and has left a lasting impression on generations of poets that came after her.
My hope is that this book will lead you to explore my other books of Russian poetry translations. For a full-list of my books, see the following page.
If you enjoyed my work and have a moment to spare, I would really appreciate a short review. Your help in spreading the word is gratefully received.
Also, I would like to invite you to visit my new website dedicated to Russian poetry translations:
Discernible Sound
. As always don’t hesitate to contact me with any questions and/or comments.
Sincerely,
Rosary: Poetry of Anna Akhmatova
White Flock: Poetry of Anna Akhmatova
Final Meeting: Selected Poetry of Anna Akhmatova
Wondrous Moment: Selected Poetry of Alexander Pushkin
My Poems: Selected Poetry of Marina Tsvetaeva
Backbone Flute: Selected Poetry of Vladimir Mayakovsky
February: Selected Poetry of Boris Pasternak
The Stranger: Selected Poetry of Alexander Blok
Unfinished Flight: Selected Poetry of Vladimir Vysotsky
O, Time…: Selected Poetry of Victoria Roshe
Discernible Sound: Selected Poetry