Akmatova and husband, Nikolay Gumilev
To Alexander Blok
I have come to call on the poet.
It is Sunday, exactly midday.
The wide room is filled with quiet
and through the casements now I see
a purple sun suspended in frost
over the winding disheveled gray
smoke. My silent host
(how clearly) looks at me.
Luminous, clairvoyant eyes —
Who could forget their gaze? I,
Being prudent, make a choice:
not to look into them. I turn away.
But I shall remember always
that smoky noon, Sunday
in a quiet high gray house
where the Neva courts the sea.
Translation by Rose Styron
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