Venice

by Anna Akhmatova

　　Tender and dazzlingly green;

　　A salt-breeze sweeps away

　　The gondola's narrow wake.

　　Such sensitive, strange eyes in the streets,

　　The bright toys in the shops:

　　A lion with a book, on a lace pillow,

　　A lion with a book, on a marble pillar.

　　As in an ancient, faded canvas,

　　The sky is a cool, dull blue…

　　But one's not crushed in the crowd,

　　Nor stifled in this damp heat.