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, 
In the evening calm, 
But to me in this deserted temple 
It's like a golden celebration, 
And a consolation.

Added: Mar 10 2005 | Viewed: 1066 times | Comments (0)

Poet: Anna Akhmatova
Poem: Sunbeam

There are no comments for this poem. Why not be the first one to post something about it?

Are you looking for more information on this poem? Perhaps you are trying to analyze it? The poem, Sunbeam, has not yet been commented on. You can click here to be the first to post a comment about it. Of course you can also always discuss poems by Anna Akhmatova with others on the Poetry Connection poetry forum!