Poetry meme

[altariel]

From all over the place: When you see this, post a bit of poetry in your own journal.

I picked a piece by the Russian poet Anna Akhmatova, written in 1919, translated by D.M. Thomas.


Why is our century worse than any other?
Is it that in the stupor of fear and grief
It has plunged its fingers in the blackest ulcer,
Yet cannot bring relief?

Westward the sun is dropping,
And the roofs of towns are shining in its light.
Already death is chalking doors with crosses
And calling the ravens and the ravens are in flight.




Edited to add: I found another translation, by Judith Hemschemeyer. I prefer Thomas's, but it is interesting to compare them.


Has this century been worse
Than the ages that went before?
Perhaps in this, that in a daze of grief and anguish
It touched, but could not cure, the vilest sore.
In the west the earthly sun is still shining,
And the roofs of the cities gleam in its rays,
But here the white one already chalks crosses on the houses
And summons the crows, and the crows come flying.

Comments

[vasiliki.livejournal.com]

Or the line that made me decide I prefer the first translation, although my intuition says the second one is closer to the original (is the sun still shining in the west, in contrast with the death walking in the east, or not? I think yes.):

Already death is chalking doors with crosses

against

But here the white one already chalks crosses on the houses

The second one has no rhythm.

[altariel.livejournal.com]

I think you're right and it's a closer translation. I always prefer translations that work as pieces in their own right.