Anna Akhmatova is a poet who lived in Russia at the turn of the last century and led a life that was full of hardship and tragedy. Here is a poem that uses tight language and great imagery and reflects the difficult life that was hers. This poem was originally written in Russian but nothing seems lost in translation.
by Anna Akhmatova
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—
Unless . . . Summer's ardent rustling
Is like a festival outside my window.
For a long time I've foreseen this
Brilliant day, deserted house.