Saturday, July 31, 2010
Friday, July 23, 2010
Friday, July 16, 2010
Wednesday, July 7, 2010
I will root out this day from your memory,
So that your helplessly hazy glance will ask:
Where did I see Persian lilac,
And swallows, and a little wooden house?
Oh, how often you will remember
The sudden anguish of unnamed desire,
And search, in drifting dream towns,
For the street that isn't on the map!
At the sight of every chance letter,
At the sound of a voice from a half-opened door,
You will think: "She herself
Has come to dispel my disbelief."
April 4, 1915
Tsarskoye Selo
Anna Akhmatova
So that your helplessly hazy glance will ask:
Where did I see Persian lilac,
And swallows, and a little wooden house?
Oh, how often you will remember
The sudden anguish of unnamed desire,
And search, in drifting dream towns,
For the street that isn't on the map!
At the sight of every chance letter,
At the sound of a voice from a half-opened door,
You will think: "She herself
Has come to dispel my disbelief."
April 4, 1915
Tsarskoye Selo
Anna Akhmatova
Tuesday, July 6, 2010
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