Let my heiress have full rights, Live in my house, sing songs that I composed. Yet how slowly my strength ebbs, How the tortured breast craves air. The love of my friends, my enemies' rancor. And the yellow roses in my bushy garden, And a lover's burning tendernessall this. I bestow upon you, messenger of dawn. Also the glory for which I was born, For which my star, like some whirlwind, soared. And now falls. Look, its falling. Prophesies your power, love and inspiration. Preserving my generous bequest, You will live long and worthily. Thus it will be. You see, I am content, Be happy, but remember me.
Anna AkhmatovaAbout author
- Author's profession: Poet
- Nationality: russian
- Born: June 23, 1889
- Died: March 5, 1966