...but wild in our breast for centuries

[morgiana]

Everything is plundered, betrayed, sold,
Death's great black wing scrapes the air,
Misery gnaws to the bone.
Why then do we not despair?

By day, from the surrounding woods,
cherries blow summer into town;
at night the deep transparent skies
glitter with new galaxies.

And the miraculous comes so close
to the ruined, dirty houses --
something not known to

Comments

[pynelyf]

I love Anna Akhmatova, but honestly, this might be the most upbeat poem of hers I've ever read. Of course you would be the one to find it. How are you doing by the way? I hope you're over your cold. I'm sorry I've been such a deadbeat friend lately. Call me if/when you have time this week.