Anna Akhmatova

(23 June 1889 – 5 March 1966 / Odessa)

Poems of Anna Akhmatova

Sunbeam

I pray to the sunbeam from the window -
It is pale, thin, straight.
Since morning I have been silent,
And my heart - is split.
The copper on my washstand
Has turned green,
But the sunbeam plays on it
So charmingly.
How innocent it is, and simple,

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