Way of All the Earth. Anna Akhmatova

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Way of All the Earth - Anna Akhmatova

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the corner is turned down?

      And eternally the book opens

      Here, as if it’s the only part

      I must know. From the parting moment

      The unreturning years haven’t departed.

      O, the heart is not made of stone

      As I said, it’s made of flame . . .

      I’ll never understand it, are you close

      To me, or did you simply love me?

      It’s all the same where to be bored!

      A small mill on a low hilltop.

      The years can be silent here.

      Softly the bee swims

      Over dry convolvulus.

      At the pond I call the mermaid

      But the mermaid is dead.

      The wide pond has grown shallow

      And clogged with a rusty slime.

      Over the trembling aspen

      A light moon shines.

      I notice everything freshly.

      The poplars smell of wetness.

      I am silent. Without words

      I am ready to become you again, earth.

      1911, Tsarskoye Selo

      I haven’t locked the door,

      Nor lit the candles,

      You don’t know, don’t care,

      That tired I haven’t the strength

      To decide to go to bed.

      Seeing the fields fade in

      The sunset murk of pine-needles,

      And to know all is lost,

      That life is a cursed hell:

      I’ve got drunk

      On your voice in the doorway.

      I was sure you’d come back.

      1911, Tsarskoye Selo

      There’s nothing to be sad about.

      Sadness is a crime, a prison.

      A strange impression, I have risen

      From the grey canvas like a sheet.

      Up-flying arms, with a bad break,

      Tormented smile—I and the sitter

      Had to become thus through the bitter

      Hours of profligate give and take.

      He willed it that it should be so,

      With words that were sinister and dead.

      Fear drove into my lips the red,

      And into my cheeks it piled the snow.

      No sin in him. I was his fee.

      He went, and arranged other limbs,

      And other draperies. Void of dreams,

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