I have a lot of work to do today; I need to slaughter memory, Turn my living soul to stone Then teach myself to live again. - Anna Akhmatova

The silvery tree opens to an empty sky — maybe it is better that I am not your husband.

N.V.N.
(translated by Jane Kenyon)

There is a sacred, secret line in loving
which attraction and even passion cannot cross, — even if lips draw near in awful silence
and love tears at the heart.

Friendship is weak and useless here,
and years of happiness, exalted and full of fire,
because the soul is free and does not know
the slow luxuries of sensual life.

Those who try to come near it are insane
and those who reach it are shaken by grief,
So now you know exactly why
my heart beats no faster under your hand.

They soar, they are somewhere mid-flight,
The words of love and liberation
And I'm succumbing to stage-fright,
My lips – ice cold in trepidation.
But soon, where birches, thin and humble,
Caress the windows with their leaves, -
The voice of the unseen will rumble
And roses will be tied in wreaths.