NIKOLAI GUMILEV

Between red stars
and whitened radar
in turbulence of winds
from a vagabond earth
and a flame from orbits
clouds rush on
opening your mind's
sensorium
into a silhouette sky
reciting your clear poem
to Anna Akhmatova
sealed by the secret
of a wife's words in love
enlightened without blame
from tormented rumors
of silent snow in Siberia
driven in exile
to unfamiliar landscapes
between untangled visits
at the Sorbonne
later animated to live
for your son Lev
once on a travelogue
to study Abyssinia
in a time inspired
by a bitter consciousness
recoiled by violence
silence has no limbs
by the Urals fir
as if only God
may comfort her.