'To feel thoroughly ill, to sweat in delirium,'


To feel thoroughly ill, to sweat in delirium,
To meet everyone known again,
To roam the broad paths of a sea-side garden,
Filled with the wind and sun.

Today, even the dead, the exiled,
Choose to enter my home.
You are leading a child by the hand,
I have longed for him so.

I'll eat blue grapes with my dear ones,
I'll drink the ice cold wine,
And watch how the grey waterfall drops
Into moist, flinty depths.


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Return to the Anna Akhmatova Home Page, or . . . Read the next poem; 'To lose the freshness of speech, the simplicity of feeling,'

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