'Why pretend to be'

by Anna Akhmatova

　　Now breeze, now stone, now a bird?

　　Why smile at me,

　　In sudden lightning from summer's sky?

　　Don't torture me further, and don't touch me!

　　Leave me to my prophetic dreams…

　　A drunken flame reels

　　Over the dry grey marshes.

　　And the Muse in a ragged shawl,

　　Sings a long despondent song,

　　With a harsh youthful yearning,

　　With her miraculous strength.