Anna Akhmatova

I do not deserve this praise, rather,
And Sappho doesn�t matter in that,
I know the reason another,
But nothing of it can be read.
Let somebody save self by running,
And others � by nods from their �bliss�.
These poems were all underlying
With text, that�s like look in abyss.
And this abyss calls and pulls down,
For ages you�ll not find its floor,
For ages will not fail to sound
Dead silence that lays you before.

Translated by Yevgeny Bonver, July, 2002