In my inconsolable waundering I am living on the wild shore,like the smoke of a sacrifice that cannot fly up to the throne it exalts. I lean into an astonishing muteness and a fragrant,burning wind sears my consciousness....
"I may no longer smile awhile,
a freezing spring wind can chill my lips,
One less hope becomes
one more song.
And this song,against my will,
I devote to desecration, (discretion) and mockery,
Because it is unbearably painful
for the soul to love silently."
--Anna Akhmatova-April.1915 .........with my additions...
