On the 100th Anniversary of Anna Akhmatova.
Translated by Michael Efroimsky
The fallen lock of hair, the execution sword,
The grain and the mill, the flame and the scripture –
The Lord retains all, especially the words
Of pardon and of love, as prompted by His whisper.
They come through beats of pulse and shovels breaking ground,
Through bone-crashing crunch; and their pitch is rough.
As one can live just once, they have a stronger sound
When spelled by mortal lips, not whispered from above.
From lands across the seas, I greet you, mighty soul.
You found those words, and put the words to verse.
I venerate your ribs becoming Russian soil
Reverberating through the speechless Universe.
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© Copyright: Михаил Эфроимский, 2019
Свидетельство о публикации №119010201207
Свидетельство о публикации №119010201207
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