Section: «Poems»

Verse (ancient Greek ὁ στίχος — row, structure), a term in versification used in several meanings: artistic speech organized by division into rhythmically commensurate segments; poetry in the narrow sense; in particular, it implies the properties of versification of a particular tradition ("antique verse", "Akhmatova's verse", etc.); a line of poetic text organized according to a certain rhythmic pattern ("My uncle of the most honest rules").

Shade

‘What does a certain woman know of the hour of her death?’ - MandelstamTallest, suavest of us, why Memory,forcing you to appear from the past..

© Anna Akhmatova

In Memory Of M.B.

Here is my gift, not roses on your grave,not sticks of burning incense.You lived aloof, maintaining to the endyour magnificent disdain.You drank..

© Anna Akhmatova

Thunder

There will be thunder then. Remember me.Say ‘ She asked for storms.’ The entireworld will turn the colour of crimson stone,and your heart, as then..

© Anna Akhmatova

Lying In Me

Lying in me, as though it were a whiteStone in the depths of a well, is oneMemory that I cannot, will not, fight:It is happiness, and it is..

© Anna Akhmatova

March Elegy

I have enough treasures from the pastto last me longer than I need, or want.You know as well as I . . . malevolent memorywon't let go of half of..

© Anna Akhmatova

I Hear The Oriole's Always-Grieving Voice

I hear the oriole's always-grieving voice,And the rich summer's welcome loss I hearIn the sickle's serpentine hissCutting the corn's ear tightly..

© Anna Akhmatova

Gray-Eyed King

Glory to you, inescapable pain!The gray-eyed king died yesterday.The autumn evening was sultry and red,My husband returned and quietly said:'You..

© Anna Akhmatova

Sunbeam

I pray to the sunbeam from the window -It is pale, thin, straight.Since morning I have been silent,And my heart - is split.The copper on my..

© Anna Akhmatova

Lot's Wife

And the just man trailed God's shining agent,over a black mountain, in his giant track,while a restless voice kept harrying his woman:'It's not too..

© Anna Akhmatova

The Sentence

And the stone word fellOn my still-living breast.Never mind, I was ready.I will manage somehow.Today I have so much to do:I must kill memory once and..

© Anna Akhmatova

Along The Hard Crust Of Deep Snows

Along the hard crust of deep snows,To the secret, white house of yours,So gentle and quiet – we bothAre walking, in silence half-lost.And sweeter..

© Anna Akhmatova

Under Her Dark Veil

Under her dark veil she wrung her hands."Why are you so pale today?""Because I made him drink of stinging griefUntil he got drunk on it.How can I..

© Anna Akhmatova

White Night

I haven't locked the door,Nor lit the candles,You don't know, don't care,That tired I haven't the strengthTo decide to go to bed.Seeing the fields..

© Anna Akhmatova

You Thought I Was That Type

You thought I was that type:That you could forget me,And that I'd plead and weepAnd throw myself under the hooves of a bay mare,Or that I'd ask the..

© Anna Akhmatova

Solitude

So many stones have been thrown at me,That I'm not frightened of them anymore,And the pit has become a solid tower,Tall among tall towers.I thank the..

© Anna Akhmatova

Why Is This Age Worse...?

Why is this age worse than earlier ages?In a stupor of grief and dreadhave we not fingered the foulest woundsand left them unhealed by our hands?In..

© Anna Akhmatova

How Can You Bear To Look At The Neva?

How can you bear to look at the Neva?How can you bear to cross the bridges?.Not in vain am I known as the grieving oneSince the time you appeared to..

© Anna Akhmatova

Memory Of Sun

Memory of sun seeps from the heart.Grass grows yellower.Faintly if at all the early snowflakesHover, hover.Water becoming ice is slowing inThe narrow..

© Anna Akhmatova

Twenty-First. Night. Monday

Twenty-first. Night. Monday.Silhouette of the capitol in darkness.Some good-for-nothing -- who knows why--made up the tale that love exists on..

© Anna Akhmatova

But Listen, I Am Warning You

But listen, I am warning youI'm living for the very last time.Not as a swallow, nor a maple,Not as a reed, nor as a star,Not as spring water,Nor as..

© Anna Akhmatova

Departure

Although this land is not my own,I will remember its inland seaand the waters that are so coldthe sand as whiteas old bones, the pine treesstrangely..

© Anna Akhmatova

And You, My Friends Who Have Been Called Away

And you, my friends who have been called away,I have been spared to mourn for you and weep,Not as a frozen willow over your memory,But to cry to the..

© Anna Akhmatova

I Wrung My Hands

I wrung my hands under my dark veil. . ."Why are you pale, what makes you reckless?"-- Because I have made my loved one drunkwith an astringent..

© Anna Akhmatova

Voronezh

For Osip MandelstamAnd the town is frozen solid in a vice,Trees, walls, snow, beneath a glass.Over crystal, on slippery tracks of ice,the painted..

© Anna Akhmatova

Crucifix

Do not cry for me, Mother, seeing me in the grave.IThis greatest hour was hallowed and thanderedBy angel's choirs; fire melted sky.He asked his..

© Anna Akhmatova