Dust Smells Of A Sun-Ray by Anna Akhmatova

Dust smells of a sun-ray,

Girls’ breaths, – violets hold,

Freedom clings to the wild honey,

But there’s no smell to gold.

 

The mignonette smells of water,

Apple-tang clings to love,

But we were always taught that

Blood smells only of blood.

 

So it was no use the governor from Rome

Washing his hands before the howls

Of the wicked mob,

And it was in vain

That the Scottish queen washed the scarlet

Splashes from her narrow palms

In the thane’s gloomy suffocating home.

 

by Анна Ахматова (Anna Akhmatova) (1934)

from around the time of Тростник (Reed) / Из шести книг (From the Sixth Book) but left unpublished.

translation by D. M. Thomas