Translate to:

Musketeers moon, Zamoskvorechye, night.
As the procession of Holy Week go watch.
I dream of a nightmare - it really
No one, no one, no one can help me?

The Kremlin is not necessary to live - Preobrazhenets rights
There's an ancient rage still teeming with microbes:
Boris wild fear, Ivanov and all the rage,
And Pretender arrogance - instead of the people's rights.


Most read poems of Anna Akhmatova

All poems of Anna Akhmatova

Leave a Reply