We Had Thought We Were Beggars by Anna Akhmatova

We had thought we were beggars,

with nothing at all,

but as loss followed loss

and each day

became a day of memorial,

we began to make songs

about the Lord’s generosity

and our bygone wealth.

 

by Анна Ахматова (Anna Akhmatova)

a.k.a. Anna Gorenko

(1915, St Petersburg, Trinity Bridge)

translated by Robert Chandler

The Sunlight On The Garden by Louis MacNeice

The sunlight on the garden
Hardens and grows cold,
We cannot cage the minute
Within its nets of gold,
When all is told
We cannot beg for pardon.

Our freedom as free lances
Advances towards its end;
The earth compels, upon it
Sonnets and birds descend;
And soon, my friend,
We shall have no time for dances.

The sky was good for flying
Defying the church bells
And every evil iron
Siren and what it tells:
The earth compels,
We are dying, Egypt, dying

And not expecting pardon,
Hardened in heart anew,
But glad to have sat under
Thunder and rain with you,
And grateful too
For sunlight on the garden.

 

by Louis MacNeice (1907 – 1963)