That was when the ones who smiled Were the dead, glad to be at rest..

In the terrible years of the Yezhov terror I spent seventeen months waiting in line outside the prison in Leningrad. One day somebody in the crowd id….

And it seemed to me that there were fires Flying till dawn without number And I never found out things-those Strange eyes of his-what colour? Everyth….

No, not under the vault of another sky, not under the shelter of other wings. I was with my people then, there where my people were doomed to be..

The stars of death stood over us. And Russia, guiltless, beloved, writhed under the crunch of bloodstained boots, under the wheels of Black Marias..

I have long had this premonition of a bright day and a deserted house.

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 al….

The celebrations Of secret nonmeetings are empty, Unspoken conversations, Unuttered words. Glances that don't intersect Don't know where to come to r….

The whole time I was hoping my silence would fit yours and exclamation marks would gently float across time and space so that boundaries would be cro….

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….

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..

The secret of secrets is inside me again..

Now no one will listen to songs. The prophesied days have begun. Latest poem of mine, the world has lost its wonder, Don't break my heart, don't ring….

But here, in the murk of conflagration, where scarcely a friend is left to know we, the survivors, do not flinch from anything, not from a single blo….

Italy is a dream that keeps returning for the rest of your life..

A choir of angels glorified the hour, the vault of heaven was dissolved in fire. "Father, why hast Thou forsaken me? Mother, I beg you, do not weep f….

Wild honey smells of freedom The dust - of sunlight The mouth of a young girl, like a violet But gold - smells of nothing..

It is unbearably painful for the soul to love silently..

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

Rising from the past, my shadow Is running in silence to meet me..

As the future ripens in the past, so the past rots in the future -- a terrible festival of dead leaves..