For Alexander Blok

I came to him as a guest.
Precisely at noon. Sunday.
In the large room there was quiet,
And beyond the window, frost
And a sun like raspberry
Over bluish-grey smoke-tangles.
How the reticent master
Concentrates as he looks!
His eyes are of the kind that
Nobody can forget. I'd
Better look out, better
Not look at them at all.
But I remember our talk,
Smoky noon of a Sunday,
In the poet's high grey house
By the sea-gates of the Neva.

1914, January

Бібліотека ім. Анни Ахматової >> Твори >> Переклади >> Збірки віршів (англ. мова)