Half a century ago, Anna Akhmatova, a poet of the Silver Age, whose work reflected an entire epoch and remained forever a symbol of the greatness of a woman with a difficult fate, died. Anna Andreyevna survived two revolutions, two world wars, the blockade of Leningrad, but she never stopped writing poetry:
The devil did not betray. I succeeded.
There are obvious signs of power.
Take my heart out of my chest and throw it
The hungriest dog …
During the Great Patriotic War, Akhmatova was evacuated from besieged Leningrad to Uzbekistan, where in greener, safer Tashkent she would write a cycle of poems “Tashkentian Pages”. And much later, having returned to her home city in May 1944, the poetess will warmly recall this period of her life: “It was in Tashkent, for the first time, that I learned what burning heat, woody shade and the sound of water are. And I also learned what human kindness is.”
Central Asia charmed Anna Andreyevna. Tashkent lyrics of the poet turned to the unusual beauty that attracted her eyes, while the artistic images, sung in lyrics, acquire a mythological connotation of new words for the Russian writer. “Chardzhou”, “Samarkand”, “Termez”, “turban”, “brazier”, “aryk” – it seems that Akhmatova discovers the mysterious world of the East with its people and ancient history:
You with your lynx-like eves, Asia,
Saw something special in me.
Teased out something I had hidden.
Something that was born of silence,
Insufferable and recalcitrant
Like the heat of the Termez midday sun
The simplest things turn into the oriental still life, written in lyrics:
When the moon is a hunk of melon chardzhuyskoy
On the edge of the window, and stuffiness around,
When the door is closed, and enchanted house
Air branch blue wisteria,
And in a cup of cold water clay,
And snow towels, and candle wax lit…
The poet with a vigilant eye notes the details, coloring them in multicolor and radiance, not typical of her until now:
To fall asleep distressed,
To wake up in love,
To notice how red the poppy is.
Some kind of strength
Your shrine, darkness!
How bitter the smoke
Of your iron brazier,
And how tall your poplar tree…
Comes from the garden…
So this is you, the East!
The poems of Anna Akhmatova have been translated into many languages of the world, including Turkmen. In the Turkmen magazine “Dünýä Edebiyaty” (World Literature) one can find some poems of the poetess.
Anna Andreyevna lived in Central Asia for four years, read poetry in hospitals where the wounded were taken, and in 1943 a collection of poems was published in Tashkent, which included selected poems by poet.
My Asian house stands firm –
No need to worry…
I will come again. Blossom, hedge;
And you, pure reservoir, be full.