Friday, October 25, 2013

an Akhmatova poem

How can you bear to look at the Neva? 
How can you bear to cross the bridges?
Not in vain am I known as the grieving one 
Since the time you appeared to me. 
The black angels' wings are sharp, 
Judgment Day is coming soon, 
And raspberry-colored bonfires bloom, 
Like roses, in the snow.


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