“If I can’t have love, if I can’t find peace, Give me a bitter glory.”— Anna Akhmatova, Rosary
“You outshine everything, even the sun / at its zenith.”— Marina Tsvetaeva, tr. by Michael R. Burch, from “Poems for Akhmatova,”
Come love let us sit together
In the cramped kitchen breathing kerosene.
There’s fuel enough to forget the weather,
The knife is ours and the bread is clean.
Come love let us play the game
Of what to take and when to run,
Of come with me and come what may
And holding hands to hold off the sun. Osip Mandelstam (b. 15 Jan 1891) in his poem describing life during the years of being a fugitive and exile, translated by Christian Wiman, featured in My Bright Abyss (via existential-celestial)
In the cramped kitchen breathing kerosene.
There’s fuel enough to forget the weather,
The knife is ours and the bread is clean.
Come love let us play the game
Of what to take and when to run,
Of come with me and come what may
And holding hands to hold off the sun. Osip Mandelstam (b. 15 Jan 1891) in his poem describing life during the years of being a fugitive and exile, translated by Christian Wiman, featured in My Bright Abyss (via existential-celestial)
(via edwordsmyth)
