Bella Akhmadulina (Izabella Akhatovna Akhmadulina) nasceu em Moscovo em 10 de Abril de 1937. Deixou-nos hoje. Poeta, tradutora ensaísta, fica a sua obra notável.
Aqui deixo, como pequena e simbólica homenagem, um dos seus (muito belos) poemas.
I had not been back for many years.
I often dreamed of foreign lands and faces
of people I once loved, the people who
were taken from me and from their native place.
There has never been the time to dream beyond
the horizon – but then yesterday I did.
On waking here, I thought: in no way strange
that soul should fly from body like a bird.
I have bartered you for this, friends
of a plundered heart picked clean as bone.
The sun joined you (my yesterday went out)
across the Oka in a forest dark like stone.
Night after night your tears saw me in Tarusa,
which for us both was the same as the real thing.
They found me there and did not go away:
the sweeter the dream, the harsher the awakening.
Now here is a new down, a day I send
to keep you up-to-date on how my heart breaks
every time I cross the snow and ice
of the chasm and dark forest that lie between us.
Look: I am walking into Ladyzhino.
The charms and catastrophes of home are plain.
O Aunty Manya, take pity on me, forgive
me everything I said and did not say.
You look embittered; your house is but a hovel;
my friends were taken from you, too, one night.
And still you say, “Don’t be so miserable.”
Oh, heart contains more misery than might.
Snow outside. An ikon, bench and table –
I hide my inside hell behind my sleeve.
“Ah, angel, welcome one, my prodigal,
no weeping, no laments.” I lament and weep.