ANNA AKHMATOVA: MIDNIGHT VERSES
“Seventh Book”
MIDNIGHT VERSES
Seven Poems
“The mirror dreams only of the mirror,
Silence watches over silence. . . “
The Other Side of the Coin
(Part Two of "Poem Without a Hero")
In Place of a Dedication
I wander on the waves and hide in the forest,
I am sketched on the sky's pure enamel,
Separation, probably, won't be so hard,
But a meeting with you—just bearable.
Summer 1963
1
Elegy Before the Coming of Spring
toi qui m'as consolée.
Gerard de Nerval*
The snowstorm hushed among the pines,
But, intoxicated without wine,
There, like Ophelia, silence itself
Sang to us all through the night.
* . . .you who comforted me. (Fr.)
And the one who appeared only to me
Was betrothed to that quietness,
Having said farewell, he generously remained,
He remained with me until death.
March 10, 1963
Komarovo
2
First Warning
What is it to us
That everything is turning to ashes;
I have sung over so many abysses,
And lived in so many mirrors.
Although I am not a dream, not delight,
And, least of all, paradise,
Perhaps more often than necessary,
You will happen to recall—
Both the rumble of subsiding lines
And an eye that conceals in its depth,
In its anxious silence,
That rusty, scratchy little wreath.
July 6, 1963
Moscow
“Seventh Book”
MIDNIGHT VERSES
Seven Poems
“The mirror dreams only of the mirror,
Silence watches over silence. . . “
The Other Side of the Coin
(Part Two of "Poem Without a Hero")
In Place of a Dedication
I wander on the waves and hide in the forest,
I am sketched on the sky's pure enamel,
Separation, probably, won't be so hard,
But a meeting with you—just bearable.
Summer 1963
1
Elegy Before the Coming of Spring
toi qui m'as consolée.
Gerard de Nerval*
The snowstorm hushed among the pines,
But, intoxicated without wine,
There, like Ophelia, silence itself
Sang to us all through the night.
* . . .you who comforted me. (Fr.)
And the one who appeared only to me
Was betrothed to that quietness,
Having said farewell, he generously remained,
He remained with me until death.
March 10, 1963
Komarovo
2
First Warning
What is it to us
That everything is turning to ashes;
I have sung over so many abysses,
And lived in so many mirrors.
Although I am not a dream, not delight,
And, least of all, paradise,
Perhaps more often than necessary,
You will happen to recall—
Both the rumble of subsiding lines
And an eye that conceals in its depth,
In its anxious silence,
That rusty, scratchy little wreath.
July 6, 1963
Moscow
VERS DE MINUIT
Il n'y a qu'un miroir qui rêve d'un mirroir
Un silence qui veille un silence
En guise de préface
J'erre sur les vagues, je me cache dans le bois,
J'apparais fugitive sur le pur émail,
La séparation, je peux surement la supporter,
Mais une rencontre avec toi... j'en doute.
Élegie d'avant le printemps
toi qui m'as consolée.
GERARD DE NERVIL
Entre les pins la tempête s'est calmée,
Mais, ivre, sans avoir bu,
Semblable à une autre Ophélie,
Le silence a chanté toute la nuit.
Et celui dont j'avais seulement l’idée
Il a dit adieu, mais il est resté sans réserve,
II est resté avec moi jusqu'à la mort
10 mars 1963
Premier avertissement
Que nous importe, en vérité,
Que tout se transforme en poussière,
Sur combien d'abimes j'ai chanté
Dans combien de miroirs j'ai vécu?
Ce n'est pas un rêve, soit, ni un réconfort,
C'est tout sauf un bienfait du ciel,
II se peut que tu sois obligé
De te rappeler plus qu'il n'est nécessaire.
Le grondement des poèmes qui se taisent,
L'oeil qui se cache dans les profondeurs,
Cette couronne de barbelés rouillés
Au milieu d'un silence inquiet.
6 juillet 1963
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