(23 June 1889 – 5 March 1966 / Odessa)

I Wrung My Hands

I wrung my hands under my dark veil. . .
"Why are you pale, what makes you reckless?"
-- Because I have made my loved one drunk
with an astringent sadness.

I'll never forget. He went out, reeling;
his mouth was twisted, desolate. . .
I ran downstairs, not touching the banisters,
and followed him as far as the gate.

And shouted, choking: "I meant it all
in fun. Don't leave me, or I'll die of pain."
He smiled at me -- oh so calmly, terribly --
and said: "Why don't you get out of the rain?"

User Rating: 3,1 / 5 ( 47 votes ) 6

Comments (6)

Why don't you get out of the rain? Can very well serve as the yardstick to measure the depth of a relationship. A profound poem indeed. Thanks.
Such an impressive write by Anna Akhmatova.....👍👍👍
I meant it all! ! Thanks for sharing this poem with us.
The words or the like used was of an astringent nature, and if put into vinegar made it stronger that infuriated him but put her calmly with smile to to wake up to reality.......very intelligently expressed....thanks for sharing
In stead of pain and sadness it is captivating one.
See More