Anna Akhmatova

Do not cry about me, Mother, seeing me in the grave.

This greatist hour was hallowed and thandered
By  angel's choirs;  fire melted sky.
He asked his Father:"Why am I abandoned...?"
And told his Mother: "Mother, do not cry..."

Magdalena struggled, cried and moaned.
Piter sank into the stone trance...
Only there, where Mother stood alone,
None has dared cast a single glance.

© Copyright, 1996
Translated by Tanya Karshtedt, ,
Edited by Dmitry Karshtedt, August 1996.