49 Motivational Quotes By Anna Akhmatova For Ballad Mongers
You will hear thunder and remember me, and think: she wanted storms...
If you were music, I would listen to you ceaselessly, and my low spirits would brighten up.
You will hear thunder and remember me, And think: she wanted storms. The rim Of the sky will be the colour of hard crimson, And your heart, as it was then, will be on fire.
I seem to myself, as in a dream, An accidental guest in this dreadful body.
My shadow serves as the friend I crave.
Call me a sinner, Mock me maliciously: I was your insomnia, I was your grief.
As the future ripens in the past, so the past rots in the future -- a terrible festival of dead leaves.
Your voice is wild and simple. You are untranslatable Into any one tongue.
You do not know just what you've been forgiven.
Rising from the past, my shadow Is running in silence to meet me.
Forgive me, that I manage badly, Manage badly but live gloriously, That I leave traces of myself in my songs, That I appeared to you in waking dreams.
I know beginnings, I know endings too, and life-in-death, and something else I'd rather not recall just now.
And you know, I agree to everything: I will condemn, I will forget, I will give comfort to the enemy, Darkness will be light and sin lovely.
We learned not to meet anymore, We don't raise our eyes to one another, But we ourselves won't guarantee What could happen to us in an hour.
Wild honey smells of freedom The dust - of sunlight The mouth of a young girl, like a violet But gold - smells of nothing.
I have a lot of work to do today; I need to slaughter memory, Turn my living soul to stone Then teach myself to live again.
That was when the ones who smiled Were the dead, glad to be at rest.
It was a time when only the dead smiled, happy in their peace.
You will hear thunder and remember me, And think: "she wanted storms.
Regarding myself as a mere echo, Cave-like, unintelligible and nocturnal . . .
Today I have so much to do: I must kill memory once and for all, I must turn my soul to stone, I must learn to live again--
... he is rewarded with a form of eternal childhood, with the bounty and vigilance of the stars, the whole world was his inheritance and he shared it with everyone.
Song falls silent, music is dumb, But the air burns with their fragrance, And white winter, on its knees, Observes everything with reverent attention.
Let whoever wants to, relax in the south, And bask in the garden of paradise. Here is the essence of northand it's autumn I've chosen as this year's friend.
Who will grieve for this woman? Does she not seem too insignificant for our concern? Yet in my heart I never will deny her, who suffered death because she chose to turn. - Lot's Wife
We are all carousers and loose women here; How unhappy we are together!
But then he touched the flowers With the dry tips of his fingers. "Tell me how men kiss you. Tell me how you kiss.
All that I am hangs by a thread tonight
Real tenderness can’t be confused, It’s quiet and can’t be heard.
Now that you're there, where everything is knowntell me: What else lived in that house besides us?
