Anna Akhmatova I pray to the ray from the window-pane

I pray to the ray from the window-pane –
It’s pale, thin, and straight.
All morning I was silent,
My heart – split in two.
The copper of my wash-basin
Is green with verdigris,
But sunlight plays there,
How joyously.
So simple it is, so innocent,
In evening quiet,
Yet in this bare shrine,
It’s a gold celebration,
A consolation, I find.