'Memory of sun ebbs from the heart.'


Memory of sun ebbs from the heart.
Grass fades early.
Wind blows the first snowflakes
Barely, barely.

Freezing water can't flow
Along these narrow channels.
Nothing happens here, oh
Nothing can happen.

A willow against the sky
Spreads its transparent fan.
Better perhaps, if I
Hadn't accepted your hand.

Memory of sunlight ebbs from the heart.
What's this? Darkness?
Perhaps! ...In the night
Winter has overcome us.


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Return to the Anna Akhmatova library , or . . . Read the next poem; Memory's Voice

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