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Friday, May 27, 2011
Wednesday, May 25, 2011
Friday, May 20, 2011
Wednesday, May 18, 2011
God Save the Muses
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Muse went away by the road,
The autumnal, narrow, steep,
And her swarthy feet were slopped,
With large drops of dew in her slip.
I begged her, with hope and fear,
To stay till the winter’s white lace,
She answered, “There is a grave here,
How can you still breathe in such place?”
I wished to give her a she-pigeon,
The whitest in our doves’ nest,
But suddenly and without reason,
She fled after my slender guest.
I looked after Muse, and was silent,
I loved only her till my end,
And in skies grew a sunrise giant,
As the gate into her own land.
(Anna Akhmatova)
The autumnal, narrow, steep,
And her swarthy feet were slopped,
With large drops of dew in her slip.
I begged her, with hope and fear,
To stay till the winter’s white lace,
She answered, “There is a grave here,
How can you still breathe in such place?”
I wished to give her a she-pigeon,
The whitest in our doves’ nest,
But suddenly and without reason,
She fled after my slender guest.
I looked after Muse, and was silent,
I loved only her till my end,
And in skies grew a sunrise giant,
As the gate into her own land.
(Anna Akhmatova)
Friday, May 6, 2011
Tuesday, May 3, 2011
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