The souls of those I love are on high stars.
How good that there is no-one left to lose
And one can weep. Tsarskoye Selo’s
Air was made to repeat songs.
By the river bank the silver willow
Touches the bright September waters.
Rising from the past, my shadow
Comes silently to meet me.
So many lyres, hung on branches, here,
But there seems a place even for my lyre.
And this shower, drenched with sun and rare,
Is consolation and good news.
by Анна Ахматова (Anna Akhmatova) (1921?)
from Седьмая книга (The Seventh Book)
Fun fact: Though the poem is dated as being written in the 1940s it is more likely it was written just after her husband Nikolay Stepanovich Gumilyov‘s execution in 1921.
Rambling At The Bridge Head 