Everything’s looted, betrayed and traded,
black death’s wing’s overhead.
Everything’s eaten by hunger, unsated,
so why does a light shine ahead?
By day, a mysterious wood, near the town,
breathes out cherry, a cherry perfume.
By night, on July’s sky, deep, and transparent,
new constellations are thrown.
And something miraculous will come
close to the darkness and ruin,
something no-one, no-one, has known,
though we’ve longed for it since we were children.
A poem that is about the humanity that keeps-charity, love, hope, .....everything but it is very worst condition- poet says- Everything’s looted, betrayed and traded, black death’s wing’s overhead.- the Satanic way that sat overhead - misguiding - dragging..from everything to put us in fire ..lovely
Fantastic the straight way of criticising those social perverts who never take any part in reformation but always shouting the negative terms to make people misguided from their own way of living. something no-one, no-one, has known, though we’ve longed for it since we were children.... Excellent the utopia which always tries to distract our social strength to keep our existence together with manliness....... Nice write.
The translator deserves credit, too. I suspect that this was a difficult poem to translate into English; furthermore, I suspect that the translator has made an attempt to recapature the form of the poem as well as its sense. If so, this is commendable indeed. Does anyone know?
To the family of the late famous poetess CONGRATULATIONS on being chosen by Poem Hunter and Team as The Modern Poem Of The Day. Truly an excellent poem
THREE: the struggle to find hope and meaning in a world that can be cruel and unforgiving
TWO: Despite this, the poem ends on a hopeful note, with the poet describing a light shining ahead and something miraculous coming close to the darkness and ruin.
ONE: a commentary on the bleakness of life, with the poet describing everything as being "looted, betrayed and traded" and "eaten by hunger, unsated"..
By day, a mysterious wood, near the town, breathes out cherry, a cherry perfume. By night, on July's sky, deep, and transparent, new constellations are thrown....... nicely expressed. Beautiful poem. Thanks.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Hi Frank I have two translations of this poem but this one is a third I don't have and It is clearly the best. Akhmatova frequently refers to miracles in a low-keyed casual way as she does here announcing new constellations and then declaring the miraculous will soon inhabit their town torn by civil war. In real terms, things only got worse. But Akhmatova never abandoned her fellow Russians - SHE STAYED as she wrote proudly in one of her poems. When friends told her the composer Shostakovich was too humble to meet her, she wrote this poem for him SOMETHING MIRACULOUS BURNS IN MUSIC...MUSIC STAYED, EVEN AT MY GRAVE, AND SANG LIKE EARTH'S FIRST SHOWER OF RAIN OR FLOWERS EVERYWHERE ALIVE.