I Wrung My Hands Poem by Anna Akhmatova

I Wrung My Hands

Rating: 3.2

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

I'll never forget. He went out, reeling;
his mouth was twisted, desolate. . .
I ran downstairs, not touching the banisters,
and followed him as far as the gate.

And shouted, choking: "I meant it all
in fun. Don't leave me, or I'll die of pain."
He smiled at me -- oh so calmly, terribly --
and said: "Why don't you get out of the rain?"

James Frederick 11 November 2008

this poem is so good. i usually like complex poems, with riddles of successive words like simic writes. but this one is touching in its simplicity. it has one potent word-combination: 'astringent sadness'. i think the poem is punctuated really well, also.

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Rajnish Manga 28 November 2017

Why don't you get out of the rain? Can very well serve as the yardstick to measure the depth of a relationship. A profound poem indeed. Thanks.

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Bernard F. Asuncion 28 November 2017

Such an impressive write by Anna Akhmatova.....👍👍👍

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Edward Kofi Louis 28 November 2017

I meant it all! ! Thanks for sharing this poem with us.

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Deepak Kumar Pattanayak 28 November 2017

The words or the like used was of an astringent nature, and if put into vinegar made it stronger that infuriated him but put her calmly with smile to to wake up to reality.......very intelligently expressed....thanks for sharing

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Kumarmani Mahakul 28 November 2017

In stead of pain and sadness it is captivating one.

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