Anna Achmatowa cytaty (127 cytatów, strona 3)

This greatest hour was hallowed and thundered By angel's choirs; fire melted sky. He asked his Father:"Why am I abandoned...?" And told his Mother: "Mother, do not cry..." Translated by Tanya Karshtedt (1996) http://www.poetryloverspage.com/poets/akhmatova/akhmatova_ind.html Requiem; 1935-1940 (1963; 1987), Crucifixion

“Let the gossip roll!
What to me are Hamlet's garters,
or the whirlwind of Salome's dance,
or the tread of the Man in the Iron Mask?
I am more iron than they.”

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Anna Akhmatova

Poem without a Hero (1963)

“Give me bitter years of sickness,
Suffocation, insomnia, fever,
Take my child and my lover,
And my mysterious gift of song —
This I pray at your liturgy
After so many tormented days,
So that the stormcloud over darkened Russia
Might become a cloud of glorious rays.”

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Anna Akhmatova

"Prayer," translated by Judith Hemschemeyer in Complete Poems of Anna Akhmatova (1989)

“And I pray not for myself alone..
for all who stood outside the jail,
in bitter cold or summer's blaze,
with me under that blind red wall.”

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Anna Akhmatova

Requiem; 1935-1940 (1963; 1987), Epilogue
Kontekst: I have learned how faces fall to bone,
how under the eyelids terror lurks,
how suffering inscribes on cheeks
the hard lines of its cuneiform texts,
how glossy black or ash-fair locks
turn overnight to tarnished silver,
how smiles fade on submissive lips,
and fear quavers in a dry titter.
And I pray not for myself alone..
for all who stood outside the jail,
in bitter cold or summer's blaze,
with me under that blind red wall.

“But lifting his dry hand
He lightly touched the flowers:
"Tell me how men kiss you,
Tell me how you kiss men."”

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Anna Akhmatova

The Guest (1914)

“The silvery tree opens
to an empty sky —
maybe it is better
that I am not your husband.”

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Anna Akhmatova

Variant translations:
The willow in the empty sky
spread her transparent fan
perhaps it were better
that I not be
your wife.
"Memory of the Sun" (alternate translation by Paula Goodman)
Thinking Of The Sun (1911)

“Not a single muscle quivered
On his radiantly evil face.
Oh, I know: his delight
Is the tense and passionate knowledge
That he needs nothing,
That I can refuse him nothing.”

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Anna Akhmatova

The Guest (1914)

“Now everything is clear.
I admit my defeat. The tongue
of my ravings in my ear
is the tongue of a stranger.”

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Anna Akhmatova

Requiem; 1935-1940 (1963; 1987)

“Mary Magdalene beat her breasts and sobbed,
His dear disciple, stone-faced, stared.
His mother stood apart. No other looked
into her secret eyes. Nobody dared.
— 1940-1943”

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Anna Akhmatova

Magdalena struggled, cried and moaned. Piter sank into the stone trance... Only there, where Mother stood alone, None has dared cast a single glance. Translated by Tanya Karshtedt (1996) http://www.poetryloverspage.com/poets/akhmatova/akhmatova_ind.html Mary Magdalene beat her breast and sobbed, The beloved disciple turned to stone, But where the silent Mother stood, there No one glanced and no one would have dared. Translated by Judith Hemschemeyer Requiem; 1935-1940 (1963; 1987), Crucifixion

“It's all the same to me. The Yenisei swirls,
the North Star shines, as it will shine forever;
and the blue lustre of my loved one's eyes
is clouded over by the final horror.
— The House on the Fontanka, 19 August 1939”

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Anna Akhmatova

Requiem; 1935-1940 (1963; 1987), To Death

“We thought: we're poor, we have nothing,
but when we started losing one after the other
so each day became
remembrance day,
we started composing poems
about God's great generosity
and — our former riches.”

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Anna Akhmatova

"We thought: we're poor"
We thought we were beggars, we thought we had nothing at all
But then when we started to lose one thing after another,
Each day became
A memorial day -
And then we made songs
Of great divine generosity
And of our former riches.
Translated by Ilya Shambat (2001)
White Flock (1917)

“That day in Moscow, it will all come true,
when, for the last time, I take my leave,
And hasten to the heights that I have longed for,
Leaving my shadow still to be with you.”

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Anna Akhmatova

"You will hear thunder and remember me...", translated by D. M. Thomas
That day, in Moscow, a true prophecy,
when for the last time I say goodbye,
soaring to the heavens that I longed to see,
leaving my shadow here in the sky.
"Thunder," translated by A.S.Kline

“Oh, who would have dared believe that half-crazed I,
I, sick with grief for the buried past,
I, smoldering on a slow fire,
having lost everything and forgotten all,
would be fated to commemorate a man
so full of strength and will and bright inventions,
who only yesterday it seems, chatted with me,
hiding the tremor of his mortal pain.”

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Anna Akhmatova

In Memory of M. B.

“That was a time when only the dead
could smile, delivered from their wars,
and the sign, the soul, of Leningrad
dangled outside its prison-house…”

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Anna Akhmatova

As translated by Stanley Kunitz
In those years only the dead smiled,
Glad to be at rest:
And Leningrad city swayed like
A needless appendix to its prisons.
Translated by D. M. Thomas
Requiem; 1935-1940 (1963; 1987), Prologue

“For seventeen months I have cried aloud
calling you back to your lair.
I hurled myself at the hangman's foot.
You are my son, changed into nightmare.
Confusion occupies the world,
and I am powerless to tell
somebody brute from something human,
or on what day the word spells, "Kill!"”

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Anna Akhmatova

Requiem; 1935-1940 (1963; 1987), Prologue

“Where are they now, my nameless friends
from those two years I spent in hell?
What specters mock them now, amid
the fury of Siberian snows,
or in the blighted circle of the moon?
To them I cry, Hail and Farewell!
— March 1940”

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Anna Akhmatova

Requiem; 1935-1940 (1963; 1987), Dedication

“Thinking of the sun causes quick
beating of my heart —
snowy weather comes on the wind
lightly drifting.”

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Anna Akhmatova

Thinking Of The Sun (1911)

“Creature of special tastes,
you do not wait for gout and fame
to elevate you
to a luxurious jubilee chair,
but bear your triumph
over the flowering heather,
over wildernesses.
And you are guilty of nothing: neither of this,
that, nor anything..”

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Anna Akhmatova

Poem without a Hero (1963)

“You…
you are as old as the Mamre oak,
ancient interrogator of the moon,
whose feigned groans cannot take us in.
You write laws of iron.”

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Anna Akhmatova

Poem without a Hero (1963)

“At dawn they came and took you away.
You were my dead: I walked behind.
In the dark room children cried,
the holy candle gasped for air.”

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Anna Akhmatova

They led you away...
They took you away at daybreak. Half wak-
ing, as though at a wake, I followed.
In the dark chamber children were crying,
In the image-case, candlelight guttered.
At your lips, the chill of icon,
A deathly sweat at your brow.
I shall go creep to our walling wall,
Crawl to the Kremlin towers.
Translated by D. M. Thomas
Requiem; 1935-1940 (1963; 1987), Prologue

“There is no death, each of us knows —
it's banal to say.
I'll leave it to others to explain.”

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Anna Akhmatova

Poem without a Hero (1963)

“That woman I once was,
in a black agate necklace,
I do not wish to meet again
till the Day of Judgement.”

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Anna Akhmatova

Poem without a Hero (1963)

“I've woven them a garment that's prepared
out of poor words, those that I overheard, and will hold fast to every word and glance
all of my days, even in new mischance,
and if a gag should bind my tortured mouth,
through which a hundred million people shout,
then let them pray for me, as I do pray
for them, this eve of my remembrance day.”

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Anna Akhmatova

I should like to call you all by name,
But they have lost the lists...
I have, woven fore them a great shroud
Out of the poor words I overheard them speak.
I remember them always and everywhere,
And if they shut my tormented mouth,
Through which a hundred million of my people cry,
Let them remember me also...
Translated by D. M. Thomas
Requiem; 1935-1940 (1963; 1987), Epilogue

“I hear always the sad voices
of summer
passing like red winged birds
over the high grass”

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Anna Akhmatova

Red Winged Birds (1917)

“In the black sky no star is seen,
somewhere in ambush lurks the Angel of Death,
but the spices tongues of the masqueraders
are loose and shameless
A shout:
"Make way for the hero!"
Ah yes. Displacing the tall one,
he will step forth now without fail
and sing to us about holy vengeance…”

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Anna Akhmatova

Poem without a Hero (1963)

“For some the wind can fleshly blow,
for some the sunlight fade at ease,
but we, made partners in our dread,
hear but the grating of the keys,
and heavy-booted soldiers' tread.
As if for early mass, we rose
and each day walked the wilderness,
trudging through silent street and square,
to congregate, less live than dead.”

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Anna Akhmatova

Requiem; 1935-1940 (1963; 1987), Dedication