The first ray - as the blessing of the Lord -
Across the face of the beloved did creep,
Who, sleeping, went a little pale,
And then again more tightly went to sleep.

It seemed that warmth of ray of sun
Appeared unto his vision like a kiss...
And long with these my lips I have not touched
The tan strong shoulder or the dear lips.

And now, the deceased spirits in my long
Disconsolate wandering along the way,
I am now flying toward him as a song
And I caress him with a morning ray.

By Anna Akhmatova
Translated from Russian by Ilya Shambat
https://sites.google.com/site/ibshambat

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