the August, as a yellow flame…

the August, as a yellow flame,
Break through the smoke,
He rose in August over us,
As a fiery seraph.

And in the city of sadness and anger
From quiet Korelian land
The two of us — warrior and the maiden —
Icy morning came.

What happened to our capital,
Who has sent down the sun to the earth?
He seemed a flying bird
On the standard black eagle.

On the wild camp-like
It became the city of magnificent parades,
Blinded eyes to passersby
Glitter peak and bayonets.

And gray gun rattled
Echoing the Troitsky bridge,
And yet were green limes
The mysterious Summer Garden.

And the brother said to me,: “The resulting
For me, the great days.
Now you are our sorrows
And the joy of a keep”.

As if the keys are left
Mistress of the estate of his,
A wind east praised
Feather Volga steppes.

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Anna Akhmatova
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