Rosary: Poetry of Anna Akhmatova
He marked with coal, as I languished,A target on my left side
To shoot and free the bird - my anguish
Into the empty night.
Your hand won't tremble in the least,
My dear! I won't suffer long.
The bird - my anguish will soar, released,
To perch and sing its song.
This will cause him to speak aloud,
The one who is home and content:
"A familiar voice, but I can't make it out," -
And lower his eyes again.
