And the stone word fell
On my still-living breast.
Never mind, I was ready.
I will manage somehow.
Today I have so much to do:
I must kill memory once and for all,
I must turn my soul to stone,
I must learn to live again--
Summer's ardent rustling
Is like a festival outside my window.
For a long time I've foreseen this
Brilliant day, deserted house.
| Best Poems | Short Poems
Email Poem |
Top Anna Akhmatova Poems
Analysis and Comments on The Sentence
Provide your analysis, explanation, meaning, interpretation, and comments on the poem The Sentence here.
Commenting has been disabled for now.