Do not take yourself by the hand…
Do not lead yourself across the river…
Do not point a finger at yourself…
Nor tell fairy tales about yourself…
     Go on, go on—and stumble
Anna Akhmatova, “Prologue” (trans. Judith Hemschemeyer)
anna akhmatova    poetry    prologue   

You will hear thunder and remember me,
And think: she wanted storms. The rim
Of the sky will be the colour of hard crimson,
And your heart, as it was then, will be on fire.


That day in Moscow, it will all come true,
when, for the last time, I take my leave,
And hasten to the heights that I have longed for,
Leaving my shadow still to be with you.

Anna Akhmatova (translation by D. M. Thomas)

(via apenasmisombra)

anna akhmatova    poetry   

You will hear thunder and remember me,
and think: she wanted storms.
The rim of the skies
will be the colour of hard crimson.
And your heart, as it was then,
will be on fire.
You Will Hear Thunder by Anna Akhmatova (via travelingteacups)

(via okayophelia)

anna akhmatova    poetry   

I seem to myself, as in a dream,
An accidental guest in this dreadful body.
Anna Akhmatova (via rosythumbelina)

(via fire-and-aether)

anna akhmatova    poetry   

You will hear thunder and remember me,
and think: she wanted storms.
The rim of the skies
will be the colour of hard crimson.
And your heart, as it was then,
will be on fire.
You Will Hear Thunder by Anna Akhmatova (via travelingteacups)

(via many-wings)

anna akhmatova    poetry   

chagalov:

Anna Achmatowa, 1926 -by Moissei Nappelbaum
from Galerie BerinsonMoissej Nappelbaum  -  Portraits of Soviet Intellectual Life [31 May - 24 Nov. 2012]

chagalov:

Anna Achmatowa, 1926 -by Moissei Nappelbaum

from Galerie Berinson
Moissej Nappelbaum  -  Portraits of Soviet Intellectual Life [31 May - 24 Nov. 2012]

(via awritersruminations)

anna akhmatova    i'm in love with her nose oh god   

You will hear thunder and remember me,
and think: she wanted storms
Anna Akhmatova (via plays-with-squirrels)

(via manticoreimaginary)

anna akhmatova    poetry   

I cannot tell if the day
is ending, or the world, or if
the secret of secrets is inside me again.”
-Anna Akhmatova, from “A land not mine, still” (translated by Jane Kenyon)
anna akhmatova    poetry   

Anna Akhmatova, “We Don’t Know How to Say Goodbye”

sharingpoetry:

We don’t know how to say goodbye.
We wander all over, shoulder to shoulder.
It is already starting to get dark,
You’re thoughtful, and I remain quiet.

Let’s go inside a church, and watch
A baptism, a wedding, a funeral.
Why can’t we live like that?
Let’s leave, not looking at each other.

Or, let us sit in the cemetery,
Quiet in the trampled snow.
And watch you trace with a stick,
Places where we will always be together.

(source; via rabbit-light)

anna akhmatova    poetry   

I cannot tell if the day
is ending, or the world, or if
the secret of secrets is inside me again.”
-Anna Akhmatova, from “A land not mine, still” (translated by Jane Kenyon)
anna akhmatova    poetry   

To bequeath to some wild violin
One’s horror and despair.
Anna Akhmatova, a fragment from 1958, trans. Judith Hemschemeyer (via proustitute)

(via moshimoshineko)

Anna Akhmatova    poetry    judith hemschemeyer   

Cities change their names, witnesses die,
There is no-one to cry with, no-one to remember
With. And the shades slowly pass from us,
Those shades whom we no longer call upon
And whose return would be terrible to us.
And, once awake, we find we have forgotten
Even the road that led to the lonely house,
And, choked with shame and anger, we run to it,
But everything (as in a dream) is different…
Anna Akhmatova, “The Sixth Elegy,” from Northern Elegies (source; adapted from sharingpoetry)  (via proustitute)

(via urfaust)

anna akhmatova    poetry