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ISBN:	0140186174 (ISBN13: 9780140186178)
Edition Language:	English

Selected Poems Paperback | Pages: 160 pages

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Title	:	Selected Poems
Author	:	Anna Akhmatova
Book Format	:	Paperback
Book Edition	:	Deluxe Edition
Pages	:	Pages: 160 pages
Published	:	October 6th 1992 by Penguin Classics (first published June 1969)
Categories	:	Poetry. Cultural. Russia. Literature. Russian Literature. Classics. Fiction

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Akhmatova’s poetry swept me off my feet. Without using her verses only as a response to the dramatic historical and personal circumstances of her time, she projected life and its vicissitudes with a tune akin to symphonic music.
Poetry as means rather than the result of a certain state of mind or the reaction to a traumatic situation, poetry that is firm for its structural, classic rigor, but overflowing with musical passion and the voice of reason.
There is an endless struggle between love and guilt in the complex tapestry of the different selves that shine through Akhmatova’s stanzas. Wife, mother, poet and chronicler converge in the two sides of Akhmatova’s nature, blending Christianity with Paganism that provide historical dimension to her poetry.

Two revolutions, two world wars, a civil war, deaths of beloved ones and the terror of Stalin’s regime framed Akhmatova’s life, but her poetry raises above such appalling context.
The voices heard in “Requiem” become a timeless, universal lament of women who lost their loved ones to the monster of repression. Akhmatova’s verses are serene, contemplative even, devoid of excessive dramatism amidst the tragedy of massive death and disintegration of her beloved country.
“Northern Elegies” show the more introspective facet of the poet, where she ponders about memory, fate and the passage of time.
But I was most shaken by the fragility of her first poems in which the creative struggle is most overt, and so is the debate between her yearning and loneliness. The popular symbolism and more avant-garde style of her latest and most known poems like "Poem without a hero" is impressive, but it didn’t make my heart sing like the little odes she composed in her youth:


“And how many poems I have not written,
Whose secret chorus swirls around in my head
And possible one day
Will stifle me…”

Suffering and wonder coexist in Akhmatova’s verses, her soul might be split in two, but she remains whole and forever faithful to her love for Russia and its people.
The undying force of a voice that can’t be silenced is what I take with me. That, and the tenacity of a woman whom I admire for her genius and her boundless humanity.

“Lying in me, as though it were a white
Stone in the depths of a well, is one
Memory that I cannot, will not, fight:
It is happiness, and it is pain.”

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It was a dimly lit night, and in the murkiness I fell lethargic and supine over my creaking mattress; my head with the heft of the world weighing it down. I was cosseted in a slumberous nebula when I heard the gale, and saw the atoms of thin air morph into a pale phantom of a woman. An aching visage drew itself out of nowhere and her soft susurrus rang in the nightly damp air. I couldnt tell who is that (knowing that I am utterly terrible at recalling faces). She moved closely and the smell of

WillowIn the young centurys cool nursery,In its checkered silence, I was born.Sweet to me was not the voice of man,But the winds voice was understood by me.The burdocks and the nettles fed my soul,But I loved the silver willow best of all.And, grateful for my love, it livedAll its life with me, and with its weepingBranches fanned my insomnia with dreams. ButSurprisingly enough! I have outlivedIt. Now, a stumps out there. Under these skies,Under these skies of ours, are other Willows, and their

Akhmatovas poetry swept me off my feet. Without using her verses only as a response to the dramatic historical and personal circumstances of her time, she projected life and its vicissitudes with a tune akin to symphonic music. Poetry as means rather than the result of a certain state of mind or the reaction to a traumatic situation, poetry that is firm for its structural, classic rigor, but overflowing with musical passion and the voice of reason.There is an endless struggle between love and

I decided to bring Anna Akhmatova's Selected Poems with me to France. I wanted to like them more than I actually did. The translator, Walter Arndt, took care to render the poems in matching meter and rhyme. The resulting poems in English feel rather dainty and dated, not the qualities that are usually associated with Akhmatova. I thought of Edna St. Vincent Millay while reading the translations. More unusual, more original, in translation, are her long poems. Requiem, translated by Robin

I really enjoyed my first foray into Russian poetry (Eugene Onegin notwithstanding) with this book. The translation succeeds in naturally conveying the simplicity and elegance of Akhmatova's style, with very few awkward moments, so the poems are easy to read. Most importantly, however, in this selection you can see the transformation of a city and a nation reflected in that of a poet: from a woman writing about growing up and living in cultured St Petersburg and the pleasant countryside, to a

by Nathan AltmanThe poems here: http://www.poemhunter.com/anna-akhmat...Silent flows the river DonA yellow moon looks quietly onSwanking about, with cap askewIt sees through the window a shadow of youGravely ill, all aloneThe moon sees a woman lying at homeHer son is in jail, her husband is deadSay a prayer for her instead.- from 'Requiem' Huang Xiang