It is your lynx eyes, Asia,
That spied something in me,
Teased it out, occult
And born of stillness,
Oppressive and difficult
Like the noon heat in Termez
As though pre-memory's years
Flowed like lava into the mind...
As if I were drinking my own tears
From a stranger's cupped hands.
Anna Akhmatova - Selected poems - Translated from Russian by D.M. Thomas
Thanks Ann and Brigid for recommending this great poet.
2 comments:
Many years ago---a few months after Akhmatova died---I read this very poem of hers, in a magazine (Atlantic Monthly?). It was the first time I'd read any of her poetry and I immediately fell in love with her words. Seeing the poem on your website, made me smile; thank you!
Glad we share the same admiration for this poet. Yeah, the imagery in this poem is so powerful, it went right to my heart.
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