Like one betrothed I receive
A letter at each day's end,
And late at night conceive
An answer for my friend.
'On my journey to the dark,
I'm staying with white death.
Do no harm, my gentle one,
To anyone on earth.'
Brighter, a star is shining
Between that pair of trees,
Calmly promising
That what I dream will be.
Return to the Anna Akhmatova library , or . . . Read the next poem; Lot's Wife