(23 June 1889 – 5 March 1966 / Odessa)


Something of heavens ever burns in it,
I like to watch its wondrous facets' growth.
It speaks with me in fate's non-seldom fits,
When others fear to approach close.

When the last of friends had looked away
From me in grave, it lay to me in silence,
And sang as sing a thunderstorm in May,
As if all flowers began to talk in gardens.

User Rating: 2,9 / 5 ( 32 votes ) 1

Comments (1)

its not exactly what she said in her poem 'music'. Added lots of worlds and wrong ideas she is not using.., this 'free style' actually turned it in very basic and ordinary poem with the only one name of Anna Ahmatova.