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Anna Akhmatova, You Thought I Was That Type

27 Jan

Anna Akhmatova, You Thought I Was That Type

You thought I was that type:
that you could forget me,
and that I’d plead and weep and throw myself
under the hooves of a bay mare,
or that I’d ask the sorcerers
for some magic potion made from roots
and send you a terrible gift:
my precious perfumed handkerchief.
Damn you! I will not grant
your cursed soul vicarious tears or a single glance.
And I swear to you by the garden of the angels,
I swear by the miracle-working ikon,
and by the fire and smoke of our nights:
I will never come back to you.

Translated by Richard McKane

Φωτό: Anna Akhmatova (1889-1966)

http://ybsapj.wordpress.com/2011/04/11/anna-akhmatova-voice-of-the-people/

 

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