THE HEART’S MEMORY OF THE SUN GROWS FAINT
by Anna Akhmatova
The heart’s memory of the sun grows faint.
The grass is yellower.
A few early snowflakes blow in the wind,
Barely, barely.
The narrow canals have stopped flowing —
The water is chilling.
Nothing will ever happen here —
Oh, never!
The willow spreads its transparent fan
Against the empty sky.
Perhaps I should not have become
Your wife.
The heart’s memory of the sun grows faint.
What’s this? Darkness?
It could be!… One night brings winter’s first
Hard freeze
penwithlit 