Requiem (Anna Akhmatova Poem)
Not under foreign skies Nor under foreign wings protected - I shared all this with my own people There, where ...
Not under foreign skies Nor under foreign wings protected - I shared all this with my own people There, where ...
On Rabbi Kook's Street I walk without this good man-- A streiml he wore for prayer A silk top hat ...
The little park planted in memory of a boy who fell in the war begins to resemble him as he ...
Not the peace of a cease-fire not even the vision of the wolf and the lamb, but rather as in ...
If I forget thee, Jerusalem, Then let my right be forgotten. Let my right be forgotten, and my left remember. ...
Do not accept these rains that come too late. Better to linger. Make your pain An image of the desert. ...
Hebrew writing and Arabic writing go from east to west, Latin writing, from west to east. Languages are like cats: ...
You mustn't show weakness and you've got to have a tan. But sometimes I feel like the thin veils of ...
Visits of condolence is all we get from them. They squat at the Holocaust Memorial, They put on grave faces ...
Far, far from here, The Adriatic breaks in a warm bay Among the green Illyrian hills; and there The sunshine ...
1 Faster, faster, 2 O Circe, Goddess, 3 Let the wild, thronging train 4 The bright procession 5 Of eddying ...
Glion?--Ah, twenty years, it cuts All meaning from a name! White houses prank where once were huts. Glion, but not ...
The Master stood upon the mount, and taught. He saw a fire in his disciples' eyes; 'The old law', they ...
How changed is here each spot man makes or fills! In the two Hinkseys nothing keeps the same; The village ...
In this lone, open glade I lie, Screen'd by deep boughs on either hand; And at its end, to stay ...
The Youth Faster, faster, O Circe, Goddess, Let the wild, thronging train The bright procession Of eddying forms, Sweep through ...
Light flows our war of mocking words, and yet, Behold, with tears mine eyes are wet! I feel a nameless ...
Coldly, sadly descends The autumn-evening. The field Strewn with its dank yellow drifts Of wither'd leaves, and the elms, Fade ...
Through Alpine meadows soft-suffused With rain, where thick the crocus blows, Past the dark forges long disused, The mule-track from ...
Light flows our war of mocking words, and yet, Behold, with tears mine eyes are wet! I feel a nameless ...
'Tis death! and peace, indeed, is here, And ease from shame, and rest from fear. There's nothing can dismarble now ...
A wanderer is man from his birth. He was born in a ship On the breast of the river of ...
Hark! ah, the nightingale- The tawny-throated! Hark, from that moonlit cedar what a burst! What triumph! hark!-what pain! O wanderer ...
As the kindling glances, Queen-like and clear, Which the bright moon lances From her tranquil sphere At the sleepless waters ...
And the first grey of morning fill'd the east, And the fog rose out of the Oxus stream. But all ...
Goethe in Weimar sleeps, and Greece, Long since, saw Byron's struggle cease. But one such death remain'd to come; The ...
Come, dear children, let us away; Down and away below! Now my brothers call from the bay, Now the great ...
Creep into thy narrow bed, Creep, and let no more be said! Vain thy onset! all stands fast. Thou thyself ...
I ask not that my bed of death From bands of greedy heirs be free; For these besiege the latest ...
Go, for they call you, shepherd, from the hill; Go, shepherd, and untie the wattled cotes! No longer leave thy ...
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