The pillow hot
On both sides,
The second candle
Dying, the ravens
Slept all night, too late
To dream of sleep. . .
How unbearably white
The blind on the white window.
Good morning, morning!
No, it is not I, it is someone else who is suffering.
I could not have borne it. And this thing which has happened,
Let them cover it with black cloths,
And take away the lanterns. . .
poems I love from Anna Akhmatova’s selected poems