About Anna Akhmatova
Anna Akhmatova (1889–1966) was born in a symbolic year she herself liked to recall—the year of Charlie Chaplin’s birth, Tolstoy’s The Kreutzer Sonata, and the Eiffel Tower. One of the most recognizable figures of Russian poetry, Akhmatova lived not only in her verses but also in the vivid image preserved by artists, photographers, and memoirists of her time: tall, slender, with a proud bearing and a striking, memorable presence. Being a member of the Acmeists poetic group, that rejected the esoteric vagueness and affectations of Symbolism and sought to replace them with "beautiful clarity," Akhmatova excelled in compactness, simplicity, and perfection of form. Akhmatova’s poetry is marked by moral integrity, psychological depth, classical clarity of language, and a profound understanding of the personal and national tragedies of the twentieth century.
About This Poem
Я научи́лась про́сто, му́дро жить,
Смотре́ть на не́бо и моли́ться Бо́гу,
И до́лго перед ве́чером броди́ть,
Чтоб утоми́ть нену́жную трево́гу.
Когда́ шурша́т в овра́ге лопухи́
И ни́кнет гроздь ряби́ны жёлто-кра́сной,
Слага́ю я весёлые стихи́
О жи́зни тле́нной, тле́нной и прекра́сной.
Я возвраща́юсь. Ли́жет мне ладо́нь
Пуши́стый кот, мурлы́кает уми́льней,
И я́ркий загора́ется ого́нь
На ба́шенке озёрной лесопи́льни.
Лишь и́зредка проре́зывает тишь
Крик а́иста, слете́вшего на кры́шу.
И е́сли в дверь мою ты постучи́шь,
Мне ка́жется, я да́же не услы́шу.
I've learned to live simply, wisely
To look at the sky and pray to God
And to take long walks before the evening
To tire out unneeded worries.
When burdocks rustle in the ravine
and bunches of yellow-red berries hang
I compose cheerful poems
Of perishing life, perishing and beautiful.
I return. Licking my palm
a fluffy cat purrs sweetly
and a bright light flares
on the turret of the lake sawmill.
Only rarely piercing the silence
the cry of a stork, flown down to the roof.
and if on my door you were to knock
It seems to me, I wouldn't even hear you.