Anna Akhmatova

(23 June 1889 – 5 March 1966 / Odessa)

Why Is This Age Worse...? - Poem by Anna Akhmatova

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

In the west the falling light still glows,
and the clustered housetops glitter in the sun,
but here Death is already chalking the doors with crosses,
and calling the ravens, and the ravens are flying in.


Comments about Why Is This Age Worse...? by Anna Akhmatova

  • Susan Williams (1/6/2016 2:08:00 PM)


    That last stanza chilled me to the bone. When a poet pegs it, I think the reader feels a shiver go up their spine and a desire to look behind one and see if something dark is there. No wonder she is ranked as one of the four best Russian poets. (Report) Reply

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Read poems about / on: grief, death, sun, light, raven



Poem Submitted: Friday, January 3, 2003



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