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Love
As a snake, coiling up in a knot,
At the very heart she's conjuring.
Or the whole day she's like tiny dove
On the window white tender cooing.
Or she sparkles in hoar-frost bright,
And in dozing - like a gillyflower...
But she surely, secretly guides
You from a pleasure and from a quiet.
She can sweetly and plaintively cry
In a prayer of boring violin,
And is awe now to guess her in smile,
Yet unknown, though such greeting.
poem
by
Anna Akhmatova
, translated by Lyudmila Purgina
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