Solitude by Anna Akhmatova

So many stones have been thrown at me,
That I'm not frightened of them anymore,
And the pit has become a solid tower,
Tall among tall towers.
I thank the builders,
May care and sadness pass them by.
From here I'll see the sunrise earlier,
Here the sun's last ray rejoices.
And into the windows of my room
The northern breezes often fly.
And from my hand a dove eats grains of wheat...
As for my unfinished page,
The Muse's tawny hand, divinely calm
And delicate, will finish it.

by Anna Akhmatova

Other poems by 'Anna Akhmatova'

I Don't Know If You're Alive Or Dead

I Wrung My Hands

March Elegy

Memory Of Sun

Requiem

The Sentence

Twenty-First. Night. Monday

Under Her Dark Veil

You Thought I Was That Type

Lot's Wife

Search Poems
e.g. love, marriage, kids

Popular poems this week

In Silence We Left

The Lost Dances of Cranes

The Author to her Book

Summer Evening

The Lesson

A chilly Peace infests the Grass

You Fit Into Me

mr youse needn't be so spry..

To Mæcenas

Oh, honey of an hour