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Givnology Wellness Arts
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Reply to "The Magic of Winter"




Anna Akhmatova (1889-1966)

The little cloud was up in the sky
Like a spread out fleece of grey squirrel.
He said "I am not sorry that your body,
Will melt in March, my fragile Snow Maiden."

My hands turned cold inside a fluffy muff.
Fear and confusion came to the heart.
O how can I retrieve those fleeting weeks
Of his love, so short and so capricious.

I want no bitter feeling, nor revenge,
May I decease with the last white snow.
I asked the cards about him on the Twelfth-Night Eve
I was already his friend in January.

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  • winterrussia
Last edited by Inda
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