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some_dumb_ho: and her swift legs rooted to the ground. Who will grieve for this woman? Does she not seem too insignificant for our concern? Yet in my heart I never will deny her, who suffered death because she chose to turn. --Anna Akhmatova

tenshi_anna: I find it really weird & ironic that the Russian "writers of the feminine" that Cixous obsesses over were effectively aristocratic reactionaries (thinking of Akhmatova & particularly Tsvetaeva, who was a virulent tsarist).

belle_joyeux: That entire tweet screams "Writing Seminar hack." The embodiment of some minor local poet in provincial Ryazan critiquing Anna Akhmatova...

librarybookbot: ‘You and I / Are like grief and the mountain, / We will not meet / in this world. / But sometimes / will you send across the stars / A sign?’ — anna akhmatova, In a Dream

JohnSte40163279: We aged a hundred years, and this Happened in a single hour: The short summer had already died, The body of the ploughed plains smoked. - Anna Akhmatova

Number__47__: "You will hear thunder and remember me, and think — she wanted storms." — Anna Akhmatova Maria M. Photography ( Quoted by the photographer herself )

john_Galt95: Bonne journée à tous! Again Anna Akhmatova, please indulge me with this. Can you understand? our suffering and indignation? Can you understand why she wrote those lines? If you do, then you will know. She will describe our pain, her words are ours. That is what I love about her

Woodywoman: “The morning is drunk with the sun in spring and the terrace smells thick of roses the sky, then, shines brighter than a blue pottery" Anna Akhmatova

Dibrouillard: This life is beautiful Heart, just be wise. — Anna Akhmatova

librarybookbot: ‘You and I / Are like grief and the mountain, / We will not meet / in this world. / But sometimes / will you send across the stars / A sign?’ — anna akhmatova, In a Dream

ThomasBelfield: If you only knew what kind of trash Poems shamelessly grow in: Like weeds under the fence, Like crabgrass, dandelions. An angry shout, the smell of fresh tar, Mysterious mildew on the wall- And a poem begins sounding fervent, tender, Making us all joyful. - Anna Akhmatova

Frank_Hudson: Like a White Stone

angatia46719539: And in the depths of music, I didn’t find the answer,And again there was silence, and again the ghost of summer.,Anna Akhmatova, The Complete Poems of Anna Akhmatova,music, silence, summer,

RoseMutinda1212: Why is it that you still beguile me –As wind, stone, bird – and all the likes? Why is that you smile on me – With sudden summer lightning strikes?,Anna Akhmatova, White Flock,attraction, poetry,

ainatahir1: I defend not my voice,but my silence. -Anna akhmatova

acephaliccc: “But longing has drunk my blood.” — Anna Akhmatova, The Complete Poems

fromthatcity: I defend not my voice, but my silence. - Anna Akhmatova

3abersabeel1970: "Human voices did not touch me, it was the wind whose words I heard." - Anna Akhmatova

cyberalgo: “It was a time when only the dead smiled, happy in their peace.” —Anna Akhmatova

FelwaAlhudaithy: “You breathe by the sun, I breathe by the moon.” Anna Akhmatova, We will not drink; The Complete Poems: Vol. I

se_lyall: Teaching Anna Akhmatova in my Poetry class next week. All is for you: the daily prayer, The sleepless heat at night, And of my verses, the white Flock, and of my eyes, the blue fire. from 'Flight'

BrahoAlisa: See, we were never about butterflies. We’ve always been about burning stars. All about us is unearthly and radiant.” ― Anna Akhmatova

bonesivybreath: Whose soul can compare with my soul, if joy and fear are in my heart? — Anna Akhmatova, Celebrate

thejotting: You will hear thunder and remember me, and think: she wanted storms... Anna Akhmatova

thejotting: I am in the middle of it: chaos and poetry; poetry and love and again, complete chaos. Pain, disorder, occasional clarity; and at the bottom of it all: only love; poetry. Sheer enchantment, fear, humiliation. It all comes with love Anna Akhmatova, The Akhmatova Journals

BreakOutKing7: I don’t speak to anyone for a week I just sit on a stone by the sea The whole time I was hoping my silence would fit yours and exclamation marks would gently float across time . - Anna Akhmatova

doctor_156: I have a lot of work to do today; I need to slaughter memory, Turn my living soul to stone Then teach myself to live again. Anna Akhmatova,

aquotebot: "I don't speak to anyone for a week. I just sit on a stone by the sea." –Anna Akhmatova

doctor_156: If you were music, I would listen to you ceaselessly, and my low spirits would brighten up. Anna Akhmatova, The Complete Poems

deannamascle: [Like a white stone] by Anna Akhmatova - Poems | Academy of American Poets

poemakontsa: Most poignant elegy to Russian poet Anna Akhmatova I have bumped into. Akhmatova Deborah Digges So it had to be - she dosed the muse in kerosene, set her afire, burned down the house of poetry. It was a common kitchen stove. She may have taken comfort in the warmth.

poemakontsa: Late American poet Deborah Digges has written, I just found out, one of the most delicate poems on Anna Akhmatova. Of all the elegies to Akhmatova I have read throughout the years, none has made me tear up as much...

avuntusaati: “Each of our lives is a Shakespearean drama raised to the thousandth degree.” — Anna Akhmatova

lacancircle: Fine poets do psychoanalysis: “I seem to myself, as in a dream, an accidental guest in this dreadful body.” Anna Andreyevna Gorenko, aka Anna Akhmatova, 1952

HarthouseJames: [Like a white stone] by Anna Akhmatova (1889-1966) On the workings of sorrow and memory . . .

librarybookbot: ‘You and I / Are like grief and the mountain, / We will not meet / in this world. / But sometimes / will you send across the stars / A sign?’ — anna akhmatova, In a Dream

Cadetiqui4320: I’m happy. But some beauty is nonesuch - The gently sloping path across the wood, The wretched bridge that’s just a little skewed And that, for which, I won’t be waiting much.,Anna Akhmatova, White Flock,poetry,

StreetsofC: "You will hear thunder and remember me, and think: she wanted storms..." — Anna Akhmatova Women of Chicago. 2023

Maraaaks: "I know a woman, full of silence, Her bitter weariness of words, They live in mysterious fluttering eyelids, secret worlds, Her soul is greedily wide open For life..." Nikolai Gumilev, "She is", the first husband of Anna Akhmatova

JosiahWaldrup7: All's taken away: my love and my power.The body, thrown into city it hates,Finds no joy in the sunlight. With every hourThe blood grows colder in my veins.,Anna Akhmatova,lost, poetry-quotes, sadness,

_ui1422: Somewhere there is a simple life And a word transparent, Warm and joyful. Anna Akhmatova

direktrsharte: and if I die, then who will write my poems to you? — a line from the complete poems of Anna Akhmatova

_ui1422: Somewhere there is a simple life .. And a world transparent, Warm and joyful. Anna Akhmatova

Sosaxe4378: In those years only the dead smiled, Glad to be at rest: And Leningrad city swayed like A needless appendix to its prisons.,Anna Akhmatova, Anna Akhmatova,leningrad, prison,

aquino1_neil: My bedtime reading lately has been poems by Anna Akhmatova from Russia who lived 1889–1966. Here is some information about her—

zarandillo: “Sunset in the ethereal waves: I cannot tell if the day is ending, or the world, or if the secret of secrets is inside me again.” Anna Akhmatova

zarandillo: “Somewhere there is a simple life and a world, Transparent, warm and joyful.” Anna Akhmatova

MichelleU_Wood: Anna Akhmatova is regarded as one of Russia’s greatest poets. I only learned of her today so thought I’d share her with you too.

zarandillo: “You will hear thunder and remember me, and think: she wanted storms...” 15-year-old Anna Akhmatova in 1904.

zarandillo: “I have a lot of work to do today; I need to slaughter memory, Turn my living soul to stone Then teach myself to live again.” Anna Akhmatova.

_ui1422: Real tenderness can’t be confused, It’s quiet and can’t be heard. Anna Akhmatova

sxintofme: anna akhmatova once said: ㅤㅤ❛ You will hear thunder and remember me, and think: she wanted storms. ㅤㅤ❛ Call me a sinner, Mock me maliciously: I was your insomnia, I was your grief. ㅤㅤ❛ I defend Not my voice, but my silence.

SofiaJoubert: . . "Real tenderness can't be confused, It's quiet and can't be heard." - Anna Akhmatova died on March 5, 1966

SofiaJoubert: . . "Human voices did not touch me, it was the wind whose words I heard." - Anna Akhmatova died on March 5, 1966

fouckenshellby: ‘... I have a lot of work to do today; I need to slaughter memory, Turn my living soul to stone Then teach myself to live again... - Anna Akhmatova, The Verdict

matthewjdowd: RIP Ukrainian poet Anna Akhmatova, passed this day 1966. “You will hear thunder and remember me, and think: she wanted storms...” “Wild honey smells of freedom The dust - of sunlight The mouth of a young girl, like a violet But gold - smells of nothing.”

MomiraMonika: This life is beautiful heart, be wise ~ you are utterly tired you beat calmer, duller ... you know, I read that souls are immorrtal ~ Anna Akhmatova ~ 23.6.1889-5.3.1966 Foto: NinaAltentaller

InadeBree: ‘If you were music, I would listen to you ceaselessly, And my low spirits would brighten up.’ Anna Akhmatova, The Complete Poems

LiteraryVienna: „You will hear thunder and remember me, And think: she wanted storms. The rim Of the sky will be the colour of hard crimson, And your heart, as it was then, will be on fire.“ Anna Akhmatova

HossainNilofar: “Somewhere there is a simple life and a world, Transparent, warm and joyful.” ― Anna Akhmatova © Heather Hanrahan

InadeBree: ‘I don’t speak to anyone for a week. I just sit on a stone by the sea. The whole time I was hoping my silence would fit yours and exclamation marks would gently float across time …’ Anna Akhmatova Léon Spilliaert, La baigneuse, 1910

HossainNilofar: “Sunset in the ethereal waves: I cannot tell if the day is ending, or the world, or if the secret of secrets is inside me again.” ― Anna Akhmatova Joanna Maher Photography

bonesivybreath: Not in vain am I known as the grieving one Since the time you appeared to me. — Anna Akhmatova, How can you bear to look at the Neva?

Ineya18: Lanterns lit early Hanging balls gnash. Everything is festive, everything is brighter Snowflakes, flying, shine. (...) 1919 Anna Akhmatova. excerpt from a poem "Ghost". my photo

Tina69911364: "Sunset in the ethereal waves: I cannot tell if the day is ending, or the world, or if the secret of secrets is inside me again." Anna Akhmatova

sapovskaya: ... the limits of the world. poem by Anna Akhmatova

Ineya18: Poetry of Anna Akhmatova ~ Love of all will sooner become mortal dust, Pride will be humbled and flattery will be silenced. Despair, seasoned with fear, It is almost impossible to bear. ~ Joan Kocak

MomiraMonika: It's not on the asphalt where the leaves fall you should wait for me.. it's in an Adagio of Vivaldi - Anna Akhmatova

divingforperils: Nothing chains a heart to heart, If you'd like to leave. Many joys will life impart On the one who's free. Anna Akhmatova. from Heart to Heart. 1911. Died on this day 1966. Transl. by Andrey Kneller.

CelizMurray: from, From a Burnt Notebook (Wild Roses in Bloom) by Anna Akhmatova, trans. by Donald Mager at Interim Poetics:

bonesivybreath: Everything's looted, betrayed and traded, black death's wing's overhead. — Anna Akhmatova, Everything

LongsandsNews: DEPARTMENT OF THE WEEK - History Mr Willis has been teaching Soviet era poetry by the poet Anna Akhmatova who didn't always get on with the Soviet regime. Students need to know about art and culture during the period 1855-1964 for the history side of their A Level Russian course.

HossainNilofar: “True tenderness is silent and can't be mistaken for anything else.” ― Anna Akhmatova © Sally Mann

DOST0EVSKI: keeping notifications on that one anna akhmatova post i put on tumblr bc the tags ppl leave on it are so good actually

chaloelikesthis: "Sunset in the ethereal waves: I cannot tell if the day is ending, or the world, or if the secret of secrets is inside me again.” -Anna Akhmatova

ALEXANDRIASEA18: Found on Internet and shared here. [POEM] "In a dream" by Anna Akhmatova

serosheydoodles: discovering anna akhmatova might have changed me as a person

librarybookbot: ‘You and I / Are like grief and the mountain, / We will not meet / in this world. / But sometimes / will you send across the stars / A sign?’ — anna akhmatova, In a Dream

Vanurtle: “Forgive me that I ignored the sun And that I lived in sorrow.” — Anna Akhmatova, from “Broad and yellow in the evening light,” in The Complete Poems of Anna Akhmatova, 1997, tr. Judith Hemschemeyer

librarybookbot: ‘You and I / Are like grief and the mountain, / We will not meet / in this world. / But sometimes / will you send across the stars / A sign?’ — anna akhmatova, In a Dream

la_gitane_13: Anna Akhmatova Courage, 1942 -- And we will preserve you, O great Russian speech, O Russian great word, we all bear. We’ll carry you out, clear and free, as a wave, Give you to our heirs, and from slavery save. Forever!

ArunKum38053152: No, this isn't me , this is someone else who is suffering . I wouldn't be able to do it but let What's happened Be veiled in black cloth , let the lamp be removed... And then night . Anna Akhmatova

loverus8: "He left his soul behind and told me: It’ll be safer by your side." - Anna Akhmatova

bonesivybreath: Everything's looted, betrayed and traded, black death's wing's overhead. — Anna Akhmatova, Everything

librarybookbot: ‘You and I / Are like grief and the mountain, / We will not meet / in this world. / But sometimes / will you send across the stars / A sign?’ — anna akhmatova, In a Dream

PoetNotRockStar: “I am in the middle of it: chaos and poetry; poetry and love and again, complete chaos. Pain, disorder, occasional clarity; and at the bottom of it all: only love. Sheer enchantment, fear, humiliation. It all comes with love.” — Anna Akhmatova

Webwight: Woman of the day: Anna Akhmatova (1889–1966), Russian-Ukrainian poet

artemisinfurs: girl-garden, girl-shaped, evening's serenade, bride of the tomb, winter's first snow - knife-deep in autumn's throat, anna akhmatova's "muse of lament", beauty is a slaughterhouse with pearl walls, ophelia's rotten green and lilac

ArunKum38053152: I am not a prophet in any sense ; My life is a crystal fountain flowing I never did like singing Songs to keys clinking in prison doors . Anna Akhmatova

wojtysiak22: "I have much to do: I must kill my memories down to the last one, I must change my soul into stone, I must learn to live again." — Anna Akhmatova, tr. by Lenore Mayhew and William Mcnaughton, from Poem Without A Hero and Selected Poems Artwork: Nickie Zimov

bonesivybreath: Everything's eaten by hunger, unsated, so why does a light shine ahead? — Anna Akhmatova, Everything

caecilia1003: You will exist, right there. An eternal suspension within me. —Anna Akhmatova ©︎Olga Onischenko

aquotebot: "I don't speak to anyone for a week. I just sit on a stone by the sea." –Anna Akhmatova

AlyonaSchatzman: "I'm praying to the window ray..." by Anna Akhmatova

AlyonaSchatzman: I know beginnings, I know endings too, and life-in-death, and something else I'd rather not recall just now. - Anna Akhmatova

MatyldaStein: Don't give me anything to remember you by: I know how short is memory. -Anna Akhmatova / Ellen Rogers

kling66czjua: Anna of All the Russias: A Life of Anna Akhmatova TWV6NIU

BorisDralyuk: The choice of the Vinnytsia-born Nathan Altman’s 1914 portrait of the Odesa-born Anna Akhmatova for the cover must have been kismet. Years ago Margo Shohl Rosen and I translated AA’s lines about her sessions in NA’s garret, from “Epic Motifs” (1914-1916):

BurlHorniachek: 1/ "Lot's Wife" by Anna Akhmatova, translated by Lyn Coffin. From Anna Akhmatova: Poems (Norton, 1983). (Four more versions follow.)

robertsnickc: “It is unbearably painful for the soul to love silently.” ~ Anna Akhmatova, 1889-1966 [Alekos Fassianos, 1935-2022]

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