Anna Akhmatova

(23 June 1889 – 5 March 1966 / Odessa)

Anna Akhmatova Poems

1. I am a Bard... 11/26/2015
2. "Thank You, God..." 8/26/2015
3. To The Londoners 10/23/2015
4. When I Write Poems 11/26/2015
5. We Don't Know How To Say Goodbye 7/3/2015
6. One Goes In Straightforward Ways 4/8/2010
7. To Fall Ill As One Should, Deliriously 4/8/2010
8. Let Somebody Else Rest By Southern Sea 4/8/2010
9. Rachel 4/8/2010
10. There Are The Words That Couldn’t Be Twice Said 4/8/2010
11. Music 4/8/2010
12. To The Muse 10/5/2011
13. My Hands Clasped Under A Veil 4/8/2010
14. I Was Born In The Right Time, In Whole 4/8/2010
15. If The Moon On The Skies Does Not Roam 4/8/2010
16. Reading 'Hamlet' 4/8/2010
17. To Boris Pasternak 4/8/2010
18. To The Many 4/8/2010
19. Now No-One Will Be Listening To Songs 4/8/2010
20. So Again We Triumph! 4/8/2010
21. The Victory 4/8/2010
22. My Way 4/8/2010
23. The Pillow Hot 4/8/2010
24. In The Evening 4/8/2010
25. You, Who Was Born For Poetry's Creation 4/8/2010
26. This Evening’s Light Is Golden Bright 4/8/2010
27. Our Native Earth 4/8/2010
28. Sunshine Has Filled The Room 4/8/2010
29. In Dream 4/8/2010
30. You'Ll Live, But I'Ll Not; Perhaps 4/8/2010
31. The Last Toast 4/8/2010
32. They Didn’t Meet 4/8/2010
33. Here Pushkin’s Endless Exile Has Begun 4/8/2010
34. Alexander By Thebes 4/8/2010
35. I Have No Use For Odic Legions 4/8/2010
36. Thoughts Of The Sunlight 4/8/2010
37. I Saw My Friend At The Front Door 4/8/2010
38. How Many Demands... 4/8/2010
39. He Did Love 4/8/2010
40. A Widow In Black 4/8/2010
Best Poem of Anna Akhmatova

Everything

Everything’s looted, betrayed and traded,
black death’s wing’s overhead.
Everything’s eaten by hunger, unsated,
so why does a light shine ahead?

By day, a mysterious wood, near the town,
breathes out cherry, a cherry perfume.
By night, on July’s sky, deep, and transparent,
new constellations are thrown.

And something miraculous will come
close to the darkness and ruin,
something no-one, no-one, has known,
though we’ve longed for it since we were children.

Read the full of Everything

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 washstand
Has turned green,
But the sunbeam plays on it
So charmingly.
How innocent it is, and simple,

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