Death
When the moon lies like a slice of Chardush melon
On the windowsill and it’s hard to breathe,
When the door is shut and the house bewitched
By an airy branch of blue wisteria,
And there is cool water in the clay cup,
And a snow-white towel, and the wax candle
Is burning, as in my childhood, attracting moths,
The silence roars, not hearing my words–
Then from corners black as Rembrandt’s
Something rears and hides itself again,
But I won’t rouse myself, won’t even take fright…
Here loneliness has caught me in its net.
The landlady’s black cat stares like the eye of centuries,
And the double in the mirror doesn’t want to help me.
I will sleep sweetly. Good night, night.
— Anna Akhmatova, translated by Judith Hemschemeyer; see more in The Complete Poems
All poems, art, and photos are public domain or used by permission of author or publisher. Towel photo by Kelly Sauer. |
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Rumors of Water, by L.L. Barkat. An Annie-Dillard style writing book that follows the author's life as much as her philosophy on creativity and writing. |
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What is Poetry?
Our September theme explores the question What is Poetry? We hope you'll help us answer the question in some poems of your own. |
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