Poetry
-
Anna Akhmatova For the last time, we met
For the last time, we met,On the embankment, as ever.High water in the Neva,Fear of flood in the city. He…
Read More » -
Anna Akhmatova Hands clasped, under the dark veil
Hands clasped, under the dark veil.‘Today, why are you so pale?’– Because I’ve made him drink his fillOf sorrow’s bitter…
Read More » -
Anna Akhmatova He loved three things, alive
He loved three things, alive:White peacocks, songs at eve,And antique maps of America.Hated when children cried,And raspberry jam with tea,And…
Read More » -
Anna Akhmatova Here we’re all drunkards and whores
Here we’re all drunkards and whores,Joylessly stuck together!On the walls, birds and flowersPine for the clouds and air. The smoke…
Read More » -
Anna Akhmatova How can you bear to view the Neva
How can you bear to view the Neva,How can you bear to cross its bridges? …No surprise I’m marked for…
Read More » -
Anna Akhmatova How I loved, and love, to look
How I loved, and love, to lookAt your chained shores,At the balconies on which centuriesNever set foot.And you are truly…
Read More » -
Anna Akhmatova I came here, in idleness.
I came here, in idleness.Where I’m bored: all the same to me!A sleepy hilltop mill, yes,Here years pass silently. Over…
Read More » -
Anna Akhmatova Ice, resonant, floats by
Ice, resonant, floats by,The sky is hopelessly pale,Oh, why do you punish me?What crime am I guilty of? If you…
Read More » -
Anna Akhmatova I don’t know if you’re alive or dead
I don’t know if you’re alive or dead –Can you be found on earth so?Or only in twilit thoughts instead,Be…
Read More » -
Anna Akhmatova I hear the oriole’s ever-mournful voice
I hear the oriole’s ever-mournful voice,And welcome the rich summer’s losses.Through the grain, packed tightly ear on ear,The sickle slices,…
Read More »