The Grass is Black/The Air is Pink


feel me/read me/follow me

To My Muse by Anna Akhmatova

My sister Muse peered into my face;
Her eyes were clear and bright shining.
And she took back the ring of pure gold-
Spring’s first gift thereby reclaiming.

Muse, see how happy everyone is-
Young girls and women and widows.
Better to suffer and die on the rack
Rather than here in these shackles.

I know I can’t know what’s going to be;
Petals from daisies won’t clue us.
And we all have to experience pain
That love on this earth brings us.

I burn a light in my window till dawn,
and there is no one I’m missing.
But I don’t want, I don’t want to know how
Another is kissed or is kissing.
Mirrors tomorrow will laughingly say:
‘Your eyes are not clear and bright, dear…’
I’ll answer softly, ‘She took away God’s gift I prized dear’.

Posted with WordPress for BlackBerry.


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