'I came here, in idleness.'

by Anna Akhmatova

　　Where I'm bored: all the same to me!

　　A sleepy hilltop mill, yes,

　　Here years pass silently.

　　Over convolvulus gone dry

　　The bee swims past, ahead,

　　I call to that mermaid by

　　The pond: the mermaid's dead.

　　Thick with mud, and rusted,

　　The wide pond's shallows:

　　Over the trembling aspen

　　A weightless moon glows.

　　Isee everything freshly.

　　The poplars smell moist.

　　I'm silent. Silent, ready

　　To be yours again, earth.