We’re all boozers and floozies here,
altogether a joyless crowd!
On the walls, the flowers and birds
yearn for clouds.
You sit puffing your black pipe;
smoke is rising; strange and dim.
This tight skirt makes me look
slimmer than slim.
The windows boarded up for good –
what’s out there? Lightning? Snow?
Like those of a cautious cat
your eyes glow.
What is my heart longing for?
Am I waiting for Death’s knell?
And the woman dancing now
is bound for Hell.
by Анна Ахматова (Anna Akhmatova)
a.k.a. Anna Gorenko
(1913)
translated by Margo Shohl Rosen
Rambling At The Bridge Head 