Translate to:

Sweet eh see unearthly dreams?
BUT. Block

It was a prophetic dream or not prophetic ...
Mars shone among the stars of heaven,
He became scarlet, iskryashtimsya, zloveshtim, –
And I dreamed that night your arrival.

He was all over ... And Bach's Chaconne,
And roses, that blossomed in vain,
And in a rustic bell ringing
Over black plowed land.

And in the fall, that came close
And suddenly, change one's mind, hidden again.
On August my, how could you lead such
I give on the anniversary of the terrible!

Than repay for the royal gift?
Where to go and whom to triumph?
And here I am writing, as before without corrections,
My poems in the burned book.
14 August 1956

Most read poems of Anna Akhmatova


All poems of Anna Akhmatova

Leave a Reply