by Marina Ivanovna Tsvetaeva (1892 - 1941)
Translation © by Ferdinando Albeggiani

Анне Ахматовой
Language: Russian (Русский) 
Our translations:  ENG FRE ITA
О Муза плача, прекраснейшая из муз!
О ты, шальное исчадие ночи белой! 
Ты чёрную насылаешь метель на Русь, 
И вопли твои вонзаются в нас, как стрелы.

И мы шарахаемся, и глухое: ох! 
Стотысячное -- тебе присягает. Анна 
Ахматова! Это имя -- огромный вздох,
И в глубь он падает, которая безымянна. 

Мы коронованы тем, что одну с тобой
Мы землю топчем, что небо над нами-то же! 
И тот, кто ранен смертельной твоей судьбой, 
Уже бессмертным на смертное сходит ложе. 

В певучем граде моём купола горят, 
и Спаса светлого славит слепец бродячий . . . 
И я дарю свой колокольный град, 
- Ахматова! - И сердце свое в придачу.

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Text Authorship:

Musical settings (art songs, Lieder, mélodies, (etc.), choral pieces, and other vocal works set to this text), listed by composer (not necessarily exhaustive):

Available translations, adaptations or excerpts, and transliterations (if applicable):

  • ENG English (Sergey Rybin) , "To Anna Akhmatova", copyright © 2020, (re)printed on this website with kind permission
  • FRE French (Français) (Guy Laffaille) , "Anna Akhmatova", copyright © 2008, (re)printed on this website with kind permission
  • ITA Italian (Italiano) (Ferdinando Albeggiani) , "Ad Anna Achmatova", copyright © 2008, (re)printed on this website with kind permission


Researcher for this page: John Versmoren

This text was added to the website between May 1995 and September 2003.
Line count: 16
Word count: 103

Ad Anna Achmatova
Language: Italian (Italiano)  after the Russian (Русский) 
O musa delle lacrime, fra tutte la più bella!
Tu, spirito vagante della notte bianca !
Tu sulla Russia scateni una nera tormenta,
i cui urli  come dardi ci trapassano.

E noi scossi indietreggiamo, e con un sordo "Oh!"
per  cento e mille volte, ti facciamo giuramento:
Anna Achmatova!  Risuona il nome come un grande sospiro
che  cade in abissi senza nome.

E' per noi un privilegio posare il piede
Sulla tua stessa terra, sotto il tuo stesso cielo!
E chi è stato colpito dal tuo destino mortale,
già immortale si avvia nel suo letto di morte.

Nella mia città che canta fiammeggiano  le cupole,
e il vagabondo cieco  loda il Salvatore...
Io ti regalo la mia città di campane,
Achmatova! E anche ti dono il mio cuore.

Text Authorship:

  • Translation from Russian (Русский) to Italian (Italiano) copyright © 2008 by Ferdinando Albeggiani, (re)printed on this website with kind permission. To reprint and distribute this author's work for concert programs, CD booklets, etc., you may ask the copyright-holder(s) directly or ask us; we are authorized to grant permission on their behalf. Please provide the translator's name when contacting us.
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This text was added to the website: 2008-12-16
Line count: 16
Word count: 127