Anna Akhmatova

(23 June 1889 – 5 March 1966 / Odessa)

I Wrung My Hands - Poem by Anna Akhmatova

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?"


Comments about I Wrung My Hands by Anna Akhmatova

  • (11/11/2008 5:29:00 PM)


    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.
    (Report) Reply

    1 person liked.
    0 person did not like.
Read all 1 comments »



Read this poem in other languages

This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.

I would like to translate this poem »

word flags

What do you think this poem is about?

Read poems about / on: fun, rain, pain, dark, running, smile



Poem Submitted: Friday, January 3, 2003



[Report Error]