Why Is This Age Worse...? Poem by Anna Akhmatova
Why Is This Age Worse...?
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.
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.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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4/25/2024 1:10:22 AM # 1.0.0.1119
Anyone know when this was written? ? cant find it anywhere
It was written in 1919.