And the stone word fell
On my still-living breast.
Never mind, I was ready.
I will manage somehow.

Today I have so much to do:
I must kill memory once and for all,
I must turn my soul to stone,
I must learn to live again--

Unless . . . Summer's ardent rustling
Is like a festival outside my window.
For a long time I've foreseen this
Brilliant day, deserted house.

Added: Feb 20 2003 | Viewed: 11463 times | Comments (0)

Poet: Anna Akhmatova
Poem: The Sentence

Poem of the Day on:
Dec 18 2003
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, The Sentence, 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!