Anna Akhmatova (23 June 1889 – 5 March 1966 / Odessa)
For Osip Mandelstam
And the town is frozen solid in a vice,
Trees, walls, snow, beneath a glass.
Over crystal, on slippery tracks of ice,
the painted sleighs and I, together, pass.
And over St Peter’s there are poplars, crows
there’s a pale green dome there that glows,
dim in the sun-shrouded dust.
The field of heroes lingers in my thought,
Kulikovo’s barbarian battleground.
The frozen poplars, like glasses for a toast,
clash now, more noisily, overhead.
As though it was our wedding, and the crowd
were drinking to our health and happiness.
But Fear and the Muse take turns to guard
the room where the exiled poet is banished,
and the night, marching at full pace,
of the coming dawn, has no knowledge.
Poet Other Poems
- A widow in black
- Alexander By Thebes
- Along the hard crust of deep snows
- And as it's Going
- And you, my friends who have been called...
- As a white stone in the well's cool deep...
- But Listen, I Am Warning You
- For Osip Mandelstam
- Gray-Eyed King
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