Tuesday, December 2, 2014

Anna Akhmatova - On his hand...

* * *
On his hand you may see many glittering rings,
Those are tender girls’ hearts, rightful trophies of flings.

There a diamond exults and an opal daydreams,
And a beautiful ruby emits crimson whims.

But on his pallid hand my gemstone will not shine,
None shall ever be granted this jewel of mine.

In my dream a gold ray of the moon forged this ring
As it slipped on my finger it whispered to me:

“Safeguard my precious gift; treat your fancy with pride!”
I will not fail my ring. There’ll be none to confide.


Translated by Dina Belyayeva

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