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Anna Akhmatova

Anna Akhmatova

A poem by Anna Akhmatova: When I Write Poems

When I Write Poems When I’m embraced by airy inspiration, I am a bridge between the sky and earth. Of all what heart high-values in creation I am a king, when breathing with a verse! Just if my soul wishes …

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A poem by Anna Akhmatova: I am a Bard

I am a Bard… I am a bard – I am a heaven bird, I need no any richness of the world. I love a flower and so charming lass In aromatic springs that never pass. I love a whisper, …

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A poem by Anna Akhmatova: To The Londoners

To The Londoners (From the ‘In the Fortieth Year’) 1940 The twenty-fourth drama of Shakespeare Time’s writing with its indifferent hand. We, selves, the guests of the awful Feast here, Better would read Hamlet, Caesar, and Lear Over the river, …

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A poem by Anna Akhmatova : Solitude

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 builders, May care and sadness pass them by. From …

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A poem by Anna Akhmatova : Shade

Shade ‘What does a certain woman know of the hour of her death?’ – Mandelstam Tallest, suavest of us, why Memory, forcing you to appear from the past, pass down a train, swaying, to find me clear profiled through the …

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A poem by Anna Akhmatova : Requiem

Requiem Not under foreign skies Nor under foreign wings protected – I shared all this with my own people There, where misfortune had abandoned us. [1961] INSTEAD OF A PREFACE During the frightening years of the Yezhov terror, I spent …

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A poem by Anna Akhmatova : Reading Hamlet

Reading Hamlet 1 The lot by the graves was a dusty hot land; The river behind — blue and cool. You told me, ‘Well, go to a convent, Or go marry a fool…’ Princes always say that, being placid or …

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A poem by Anna Akhmatova : Rachel

Rachel When Jacob and Rachel met for the first time, He bowed to her like a humble wayfarer. The herds were raising hot dust to the skies, The little well’s mouth was covered by a boulder. He rolled the old …

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A poem by Anna Akhmatova : To The Muse

To The Muse The Muse my sister looked in my face, her gaze was bright and clear, and she took away my golden ring, the gift of the virginal year. Muse! everyone else is happy – girls, wives, widows – …

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A poem by Anna Akhmatova : In Memory of M.B

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 end your magnificent disdain. You drank wine, and told the wittiest jokes, and suffocated inside stifling …

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A poem by Anna Akhmatova : In Dream

In Dream Black and enduring separation I share equally with you. Why weep? Give me your hand, Promise me you will come again. You and I are like high Mountains and we can’t move closer. Just send me word At …

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