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Anna Akhmatova

(23 June 1889 – 5 March 1966 / Odessa)

Along the hard crust of deep snows


Along the hard crust of deep snows,
To the secret, white house of yours,
So gentle and quiet – we both
Are walking, in silence half-lost.
And sweeter than all songs, sung ever,
Are this dream, becoming the truth,
Entwined twigs’ a-nodding with favor,
The light ring of your silver spurs...

Submitted: Thursday, April 08, 2010

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