Author of quotes: Anna Akhmatova. Page 2

You gave me the youth difficult.
So much sadness in the way.
How my soul scarce
Rich You bring?
Long song, flattering,
Sings about the glory of the fate.
Lord! I careless,
Your buying a slave.
Neither a rose nor a blade of grass
I will not in the gardens of the Father.
I tremble over every speck,
Over every word of a fool.

I can not believe that there will soon be Christmastide.
Steppe is touching green.
The sun is shining. Licks the shore is smooth
It's like a warm wave.

For Outpost howls jukebox,
Driving bear, dancing to Gypsy
Spat on the pavement.
The train comes to Grieving,
And hudacek his plaintive
Responds over the Neva.
In the black wind of rage and will.
There is already to Hot Fields
Probably at hand.
There my prophetic voice disappears,
Then there's the wonders of bigger
But leave me no time to wait.

Bobbing on the waves of ether,
Bypassing the mountains and the sea,
Fly, fly dove of peace,
About the song call my!
And tell the one who hears,
How close the long-awaited century
Than now and lives and breathes
In your homeland people.
You're not alone - there will be many.
With you flying pigeons,
You have far threshold
Waiting for a heart affectionate friends.
Fly into the sunset crimson-scarlet,
In the choking factory smoke,
And in the Negro quarters,
And to the waters of the Ganges blue.

And speckled vanity of human
Everything changed suddenly.
But it was not the city,
And not a rural sound.
On the far thunder clap
He really was like a brother
But in the thunder, the humidity is
High fresh clouds
And lust meadows -
Fun showers news.
And this was like hell, dry,
And didn't want to troubled hearing
Believe that
As he expanded and grew,
How indifferent the loss carried
My child.

To ground the shroud of painful lies
Solemnly humming bells
And again the spirit troubled and disturbed
Atomnoi boredom Tsarskoye Selo.
Five years have passed. Here everything is dead and Nemo,
As if the world came to an end.
As forever exhausted the subject,
In the sleep of death lies the Palace.

Knock fist - I'll get it.
I opened always.
I am now behind a high mountain,
For desert, of wind and heat,
But you will never betray...
Your I didn't hear the groan.
Bread you did not ask me.
Bring me a branch of maple
Or just blades of grass green,
As you last spring brought.
Bring me a handful of clean,
Our freezing waters of the Neva,
And head your Golden
I will wash the bloody traces.

The cracks in the garden dug,
Do not burn the lights.
The St. Petersburg orphans,
Detonite my!
Beneath the earth breathe,
The pain of the drill head,
Through the bombing heard
A child's voice.

Hard crest of the snowdrift
In your white, mysterious house,
So quiet, both of
In silence, go gentle.
And sweeter than all songs, sung
To me this fulfilled a dream
The swing of the branches affected
And your spurs jingle a little.

Some strange words
Brought me a quiet day April.
You know, I'm still alive
Passionate terrible week.
I have not heard of those rings,
That swam in the glaze clean.
Seven days sounded copper laugh
The crying flowed silver.
I closed my face,
As to the eternal separation,
Lay there waiting for her
Yet to be named flour.

One goes straight through,
The other goes in a circle
And waiting for the return to the fold,
Still waiting for a friend.
And I go - follow me the trouble
Not directly and not obliquely,
And nowhere and never,
As trains from the slope.

Each tree of the crucified Lord,
In every ear the body of Christ.
And the prayers of the most pure word
Heals bossou flesh.

Anything that does not meet the dawn,
That the moon is not wandered over us,
Today I will reward you
Unprecedented in the world of gifts:
My reflection on the water
Per hour as the river evening can not sleep,
Look what falling star
Did not help to heaven to return
The echoing voice that shook,
And then there were fresh and old, -
So you can hear without trembling could
Suburban crows gossip,
To damp October day
Sweeter than the may bliss...
You are my angel, me
Remember at least until the first snow.

Won't drink from the same glass
Neither we, nor sweet wine,
We will not kiss in the morning early,
In the evening and not look out the window.
You breathe the sun, I breathe the moon
But we live with love one.