Solitude
Anna Akhmatova
So many stones have been thrown at me, That I'm not frightened of them anymore, And the pit has become a solid tower, Tall among tall towers. I thank the builders, May care and sadness pass them by. From here I'll see the sunrise earlier, Here the sun's last ray rejoices. And into the windows of my room The northern breezes often fly. And from my hand a dove eats grains of wheat... As for my unfinished page, The Muse's tawny hand, divinely calm And delicate, will finish it.
Next 10 Poems
- Anna Akhmatova : Sunbeam
- Anna Akhmatova : The Sentence
- Anna Akhmatova : Thunder
- Anna Akhmatova : Twenty-first. Night. Monday
- Anna Akhmatova : Under Her Dark Veil
- Anna Akhmatova : White Night
- Anna Akhmatova : Why Is This Age Worse...?
- Anna Akhmatova : Willow
- Anna Akhmatova : You Thought I Was That Type
- Anna Akhmatova : You Will Hear Thunder
Previous 10 Poems
- Anna Akhmatova : Requiem
- Anna Akhmatova : Memory Of Sun
- Anna Akhmatova : March Elegy
- Anna Akhmatova : Lying In Me
- Anna Akhmatova : Lot's Wife
- Anna Akhmatova : In Memory Of M. B.
- Anna Akhmatova : I Wrung My Hands
- Anna Akhmatova : I Taught Myself To Live Simply
- Anna Akhmatova : I Hear The Oriole's Always-grieving Voice
- Anna Akhmatova : I Don't Know If You're Alive Or Dead