"I cannot say if it is our love,
or the day, that is ending."
Anna Akhmatova, from “Departure” (via proustitute)
Anna Akhmatova, from “Departure” (via proustitute)
I haven’t locked the door,
Nor lit the candles,
You don’t know, don’t care,
That tired I haven’t the strength
To decide to go to bed.
Seeing the fields fade in
The sunset murk of pine-needles,
And to know all is lost,
That life is a cursed hell:
I’ve got drunk
On your voice in the doorway.
I was sure you’d come back.
White Night, Anna Akhmatova.
1911, Tsarskoye Selo.
(Source: voyellesjunk, via loveandzombies)
Anna Akhmatova, a fragment from 1958, trans. Judith Hemschemeyer (via proustitute)
(via loveandzombies)
Anna Akhmatova according to the research of Amanda Haight:
She was extremely thin and frequently ill. She would get up from bed to go and stand, sometimes in freezing weather, in the long lines of people waiting outside the prisons, hoping against hope to be able to see her son or at least pass…
(Source: ahuntersheart)
