To the muse
"Did you dictate to Danto
Pages of Hell? "Answers:" Me! "
1924
Anna Akhmatova
To the muse ...
The soul languishes as if in exile.
Sweet languor or punishment?
Oh, this autumn is a charmer,
Oh, this sweet, autumn time.
Is love a triumph
or frivolity,
so according to custom
the harlot grimaces.
Harrowing for the glory of the muse
or empty graphomania?
To create or not to create?
I'll ask myself the question myself.
Or send to hell?
Oh endless
souls bathing in blood,
sometimes banal
sometimes like a lingering drunkenness.
Impudence ?!
Or drown the womb in the manifestations,
For the glory of eternal impermanence.
But still look closely,
Oh if you look closely
To listen to the desire of the heart
- to dream,
- to create,
- endure,
burn in the fire of passions!
Or warm yourself in the cold,
And let others keep warm.
In the fire of passions
To dissolve in languor or in a sweet dream.
But the breath of the wind of sweet ideas
Comes silently at night, by the window,
- again she ...
I remember deshabille,
Ghost dress
there were almost no clothes on.
Was there a Muse?
Do I believe now?
I am waiting for her appearance.
Oh, how sweet nights I did.
Escaped from slavery, the kingdom of dreams.
Desire her to a frenzy
Like a crime
- I gave everything ...
Just to taste the forbidden fruit
and with a bitter taste of ink
- Created,
- created,
what was the strength.
He prayed for only one thing:
- Appear ...
Oh fate, you are with me
- mine,
- I pray
stripped today!
- And inspired by passion and desire.
I pray - hear me
- heed my pleas!
- And she was!
And the lines flew to the pages like birds!
Poems were born
like a wave at sea
and to the sandy shore
Sweet line
- poured,
- poured,
- poured!
#aristopoetry
#aristokraft
Photo: Anastasia
Model: Anastasia Padma
