Tuesday, November 11, 2008

To my dear expatriate friends...

...and friends who live in other countries who have told me, "just come, it's better here."

I leave you with the words of Anna Akhmatova in 1922:
I am not one of those who left the land
to the mercy of its enemies.
Their flattery leaves me cold,
my songs are not for them to praise.

But I pity the exile's lot.
Like a felon, like a man half-dead,
dark is your path, wanderer;
wormwood infects your foreign bread.

But here, in the murk of conflagration,
where scarcely a friend is left to know,
we, the survivors, do not flinch
from anything, not from a single blow.

Surely the reckoning will be made
after the passing of this cloud.
We are the people without tears,
straighter than you... more proud.
Anyways. Protest meeting this evening.

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