A grey cloud in the sky overhead,’
ANNA AKHMATOVA POEM
A grey cloud, in the sky overhead,
like a squirrel skin uncurled.
‘I’m not sorry your body,’ he said,
‘will melt in March, frail snow-girl!’
In the fluffy muff my hands grew cold.
I felt afraid, somehow confused.
How to recall the swift weeks’ flow,
his short-lived insubstantial love!
I don’t want bitterness or revenge,
let me die with the last snow-storm.
My fortune told of him at year’s end.
I was his before February was born.
The last snow -storm by Elaine Erig-oil on canvas -150- 150 cm -
New York-1994-award :the best paint of the year-
John Hultberg class
4 comments:
Hello,
I did not understand your comment
right now. I saw your both blogs
and find them wonderful! So I linked both on my blogroll. They are very special and great!
Bye bye//Erika
The poem is as fine a poem as she wrote - and there is no greater praise. The photograph I adore, it does the poem justice.
Well Dave, we are realy connected, at the time I did this painting my best friend in New York was a russian painter and writter called Nina, (she born in siberia) then snow cold etc... fit perfectly
Sehr geehrte Gauzibauz, vielen Dank, dass die an die Blogs, jetzt haben wir Übersetzer, ich hoffe, Sie genießen more.Kisses. Elaine
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