'I don't know if you're alive or dead -'


I don't know if you're alive or dead -
Can you be found on earth so?
Or only in twilit thoughts instead,
Be mourned, in that peaceful glow?

All for you: the prayer by day,
The hot sleeplessness at night,
The white flock of poetry,
And the blue fire of my eyes.

No one was cherished more,
Or made me suffer: no, not
He who betrayed me to torment,
Nor he who caressed and forgot.


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Return to the Anna Akhmatova Home Page, or . . . Read the next poem; 'I hear the oriole's ever-mournful voice,'

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