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Anna Akhmatova's Poetry, by first line

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  • You Will Hear Thunder
    You will hear thunder and remember me,
    And think: she wanted storms. The rim
    8 lines, 2 comments
  • I Taught Myself To Live Simply
    I taught myself to live simply and wisely,
    to look at the sky and pray to God,
    16 lines, 3 comments
  • Twenty-First. Night. Monday
    Twenty-first. Night. Monday.
    Silhouette of the capitol in darkness.
    12 lines
  • Solitude
    So many stones have been thrown at me,
    That I'm not frightened of them anymore,
    14 lines
  • I Don't Know If You're Alive Or Dead
    I don't know if you're alive or dead.
    Can you on earth be sought,
    12 lines, 4 comments
  • You Thought I Was That Type
    You thought I was that type:
    That you could forget me,
    13 lines, 3 comments
  • Sunbeam
    I pray to the sunbeam from the window -
    It is pale, thin, straight.
    13 lines
  • Crucifix
    Do not cry for me, Mother, seeing me in the grave.
    I
    11 lines, 4 comments
  • Departure
    Although this land is not my own,
    I will remember its inland sea
    8 lines, 4 comments
  • White Night
    I haven't locked the door,
    Nor lit the candles,
    12 lines, 1 comment
  • Lying In Me
    Lying in me, as though it were a white
    Stone in the depths of a well, is one
    12 lines, 2 comments
  • Willow
    And I grew up in patterned tranquillity,
    In the cool nursery of the young century.
    13 lines, 1 comment
  • I Hear The Oriole's Always-Grieving Voice
    I hear the oriole's always-grieving voice,
    And the rich summer's welcome loss I hear
    12 lines
  • How Can You Bear To Look At The Neva?
    How can you bear to look at the Neva?
    How can you bear to cross the bridges?.
    8 lines
  • I Wrung My Hands
    I wrung my hands under my dark veil. . .
    "Why are you pale, what makes you reckless?"
    12 lines, 1 comment
  • In Memory Of M. B.
    Here is my gift, not roses on your grave,
    not sticks of burning incense.
    20 lines, 1 comment
  • Lot's Wife
    And the just man trailed God's shining agent,
    over a black mountain, in his giant track,
    17 lines, 1 comment
  • March Elegy
    I have enough treasures from the past
    to last me longer than I need, or want.
    27 lines
  • The Sentence
    And the stone word fell
    On my still-living breast.
    13 lines, 2 comments
  • Why Is This Age Worse...?
    Why is this age worse than earlier ages?
    In a stupor of grief and dread
    9 lines
  • Memory Of Sun
    Memory of sun seeps from the heart.
    Grass grows yellower.
    16 lines, 2 comments
  • To The Many
    I -- am your voice, the warmth of your breath,
    I -- am the reflection of your face,
    17 lines, 2 comments
  • True Tenderness

    True tenderness is silent
    9 lines, 1 comment
  • Thoughts Of The Sunlight

    Thoughts of the sunlight fainter and dimmer,
    15 lines
  • Sunshine Has Filled The Room
    Sunshine has filled the room
    with clear golden specks of dust.
    10 lines
  • This Evening’s Light Is Golden Bright
    This evening's light is golden bright,
    The April’s coolness is so tender,
    13 lines
  • The Two Of Us Won’t Share A Glass Together
    The two of us won’t share a glass together
    Be it of water or of sweet red wine;
    19 lines
  • Here Pushkin’s Endless Exile Has Begun
    Here Pushkin's endless exile has begun,
    And Lermontov's exile turned out fatal,
    9 lines
  • Rachel
    When Jacob and Rachel met for the first time,
    He bowed to her like a humble wayfarer.
    30 lines
  • Song Of The Final Meeting
    My breast grew helplessly cold,
    But my steps were light.
    16 lines
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