White Night Poem by Anna Akhmatova
White Night
Rating: ★2.8
I haven't locked the door,
Nor lit the candles,
You don't know, don't care,
That tired I haven't the strength
To decide to go to bed.
Seeing the fields fade in
The sunset murk of pine-needles,
And to know all is lost,
That life is a cursed hell:
I've got drunk
On your voice in the doorway.
I was sure you'd come back.
Thursday, January 1, 2004
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4/19/2024 6:46:14 AM # 1.0.0.1119
Anna Akhmatova certainly makes the weather and the physical environment an inseparable part of her poem. The bleakness outside is matched by her emotional state. Excellent, isn't it?