I taught myself to live simply and wisely,

to look at the sky and pray to God,

and to wander long before evening

to tire my superfluous1 worries.

When the burdocks rustle2 in the ravine

and the yellow-red rowanberry cluster droops3

I compose happy verses

about life's decay, decay and beauty.

I come back. The fluffy4 cat

licks my palm, purrs so sweetly

and the fire flares5 bright

on the saw-mill turret6 by the lake.

only the cry of a stork7 landing on the roof

occasionally breaks the silence.

If you knock on my door

I may not even hear.

Anna Akhmatova