Anna Akhmatova

Here is a poem by Anna Akhmatova (June 23, 1889 – March 5, 1966), one of the most significant Russian poets of the 20th century. Her style, characterized by its economy and emotional restraint, was strikingly original and distinctive to her contemporaries.

I Taught Myself To Live Simply

I taught myself to live simply and wisely,
to look at the sky and pray to God,
and to wander long before evening
to tire my superfluous worries.
When the burdocks rustle in the ravine
and the yellow-red rowanberry cluster droops
I compose happy verses
about life's decay, decay and beauty.
I come back. The fluffy cat
licks my palm, purrs so sweetly
and the fire flares bright
on the saw-mill turret by the lake.
Only the cry of a stork landing on the roof
occasionally breaks the silence.
If you knock on my door
I may not even hear.
--Anna Akhmatova