<html><head></head><body style="word-wrap: break-word; -webkit-nbsp-mode: space; -webkit-line-break: after-white-space; "><p>In Memoriam, July 19, 1914</p><div style="text-indent: -1em; padding-left: 1em; ">We aged a hundred years and this descended</div><div style="text-indent: -1em; padding-left: 1em; ">In just one hour, as at a stroke.</div><div style="text-indent: -1em; padding-left: 1em; ">The summer had been brief and now was ended;</div><div style="text-indent: -1em; padding-left: 1em; ">The body of the ploughed plains lay in smoke.</div><br><div style="text-indent: -1em; padding-left: 1em; ">The hushed road burst in colors then, a soaring</div><div style="text-indent: -1em; padding-left: 1em; ">Lament rose, ringing silver like a bell.</div><div style="text-indent: -1em; padding-left: 1em; ">And so I covered up my face, imploring</div><div style="text-indent: -1em; padding-left: 1em; ">God to destroy me before battle fell.</div><br><div style="text-indent: -1em; padding-left: 1em; ">And from my memory the shadows vanished</div><div style="text-indent: -1em; padding-left: 1em; ">Of songs and passions—burdens I'd not need.</div><div style="text-indent: -1em; padding-left: 1em; ">The Almighty bade it be—with all else banished—</div><div style="text-indent: -1em; padding-left: 1em; ">A book of portents terrible to read.</div><br><br><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>- Anna Akhmatova<div> (Translated by Stephen Edgar)<div><em><br></em></div></div></body></html>