Anna Akhmatova And Her Poems..docx

“…But there is no power more formidable, more terrible in the world, than the poet’s prophetic word.” A legend in her own time, both for her brilliant poetry and for her resistance to oppression, Anna Andreevna Gorenko (1889-1966), better known by her pen name Anna Akhmatova—denounced by the Soviet regime for her “eroticism, mysticism, and political indifference”—is one of the greatest and most gifted Russian poets of the twentieth century. Before the Bolshevik revolution, Akhmatova was a wildly popular young poet who lived a bohemian life. She was one of the leaders of a movement of poets whose ideal was “beautiful clarity”—in her deeply personal work, themes of love and mourning are conveyed with passionate intensity and economy, her voice by turns tender and fierce. A vocal critic of Stalinism, she saw her work banned for many years and was expelled from the Writers’ Union—condemned as “half nun, half harlot.” Despite this censorship, her reputation continued to flourish underground, and she is still among Russia’s most beloved poets. She published her first volume of verse, Vecher (Evening) in 1912. Some of her other important works include Chetki (Rosary, 1914), Belaya Stava (White Flock, 1917), Poema Bez Groya; Triptykh (Poem Without a Hero, 1960), Rekviem (Requiem, 1964) and the Northern Elegies, published posthumously in 1985.

Lot 's Wife And the just man trailed God's messenger, His huge, light shape devoured the black hill. But uneasiness shadowed his wife and spoke to her: 'It's not too late, you can look back still At the red towers of Sodom, the place that bore you, The square in which you sang, the spinning-shed, At the empty windows of that upper storey Where children blessed your happy marriage-bed.' Her eyes that were still turning when a bolt Of pain shot through them, were instantly blind; Her body turned into transparent salt, And her swift legs were rooted to the ground. Who mourns one woman in a holocaust? Surely her death has no significance? Yet in my heart she never will be lost, She who gave up her life to steal one glance. Translated by:- D.M.Thomas.

Lot's Wife The just man followed then his angel guide Where he strode on the black highway, hulking and bright; But a wild grief in his wife's bosom cried, Look back, it is not too late for a last sight Of the red towers of your native Sodom, the square

Where once you sang, the gardens you shall mourn, And the tall house with empty windows where You loved your husband and your babes were born. She turned, and looking on the bitter view Her eyes were welded shut by mortal pain; Into transparent salt her body grew, And her quick feet were rooted in the plain. Who would waste tears upon her? Is she not The least of our losses, this unhappy wife? Yet in my heart she will not be forgot Who, for a single glance, gave up her life.

Russian; trans. Richard Wilbur

This intriguing poem, Lot’s Wife by Anna Akhmatova, takes an age old story that has been passed down from generation to generation, and tells it from a new perspective, that of Lot’s wife. The Genesis story of Lot’s family is told practically, without giving much insight into emotions or thoughts of the people involved. In fact, the account reads like a historical document more than a story. As the biblical story unfolds, readers are given the facts about what happened, but no insight into the feelings or thoughts of any of the characters are revealed. Lot’s wife is particularly overlooked in this story, as she turns into a pillar of salt for disobeying the command of the angel, and is never spoken of again. This poem gives the reader insight into what might possibly have been going through the mind of this woman, Lot’s wife, whose name we are never even given. From the title itself, the reader can sense that this account is going to be different from the original story. In the biblical account, Abraham and his wife Sarah are the central focus. Lot and his wife seem nearly forgotten after their move to the city of Sodom. That is, until God tells Abraham that he is about to destroy Sodom, and Abraham begs God to save the righteous from the city. God honors that request, and Lot and his family are led to safety while the rest of the city burns. But God commands them not to look back upon the city, and Lot’s wife disobeys that command and instantly turns into a pillar of salt. The title of this poem lets the reader know immediately that the poem will sympathize with Lot’s wife. Though she is simply a casualty in the original story, she is the central focus of this poem. Annalysis. Stanza 1 The poem begins by aligning with the biblical account in that it calls Lot a “just man” and explains that he “followed…his angel guide”. The speaker describes the angel as “hulking and bright”. The use of the word “hulking” seems almost contradictory to the “bright” descriptions usually used for angels. It gives the reader the sense that the speaker does not necessarily side with the angel, although the speaker never blatantly disregards him. The speaker then identifies strongly with Lot’s wife when she describes the “wild grief” in her “bosom”. Many who have read the biblical account may never have considered the sadness in the heart of Lot’s wife as they left their home. But the speaker of this poem brings Lot’s wife to life by allowing the reader into her thoughts. Italics are used for the very thoughts of Lot’s wife, as the speaker portrays them, to allow the reader to feel her pain. The speaker imagines that Lot’s wife was filled with thoughts of her old

life as their home burned behind them. She may have thought, “Look back, it is not too late for a last sight” and she describes the city she once called home. Stanza 2 Still engaged in the thoughts of Lot’s wife, the reader is able to empathize with how she must have felt leaving behind the home where she “loved [her] husband” and where her “babes were born”. The speaker guides the reader outside of the thoughts of Lot’s wife by changing from italics back to regular font. The speaker is, again, a third person outside perspective as is the reader. At this point, however, the reader experiences a new found sympathy for Lot’s wife.

Stanza 3 The speaker continues to engage the reader in empathy for Lot’s wife when she describes her decision to turn and look back as one that resulted in a “bitter view”. She describes her eyes as being “welded shut by mortal pain” which again, allows the reader to feel the pain she must have felt as she turned and looked at her old home, burning, knowing that was the last sight she would ever see. That was also that last step she ever took. The speaker describes her feel as being “rooted in the plain” when her “body grew” into “transparent salt”.

Stanza 4 In the final stanza, the speaker takes a step back and asks a question. “Who would waste tears upon her? Is she not the least of our losses, this unhappy wife?” The speaker is aware that most who have read the biblical account of this story would feel no compassion for Lot’s wife. After all, she disobeyed what the angel commanded. This speaker, however, sets herself apart from the rest by claiming that even if everyone else looked on Lot’s wife with scorn, she would not. This speaker would continue to think of Lot’s wife with compassion in her heart. She would remember her fondly when she thinks of this story, because Lot’s wife “for a single glance, gave up her life”. With this line, the speaker implies that Lot’s wife was not merely foolish and unable to control herself, but that she made a conscious decision to give up her life for one final glance at the place she once called home. Historical Context. Anna Akhmatova is revered in Russia as an incredible poet. Akhmatova lived through intense political persecution, totalitarian reign, and war. She was known to have criticized other Russians who fled Russia for their own safety. Instead, she chose to stay in Russia out of loyalty for her country. This insight reveals the ways in which Akhmatova may have sympathized with Lot’s wife. Although she disagreed with the way in which her country was being governed, but she still loved her homeland. It is easy to see how she would identify with Lot strongly, as Lot’s wife was also unwilling to leave her homeland, even for her own safety. While others may read the story of Lot’s wife and consider her a fool, Akhmatova had experienced similar feelings as she was also unwilling to leave her homeland even for her own safety.

March Elegy I have enough treasures from the past to last me longer than I need, or want. You know as well as I . . . malevolent memory won't let go of half of them: a modest church, with its gold cupola

slightly askew; a harsh chorus of crows; the whistle of a train; a birch tree haggard in a field as if it had just been sprung from jail; a secret midnight conclave of monumental Bible-oaks; and a tiny rowboat that comes drifting out of somebody's dreams, slowly foundering. Winter has already loitered here, lightly powdering these fields, casting an impenetrable haze that fills the world as far as the horizon. I used to think that after we are gone there's nothing, simply nothing at all. Then who's that wandering by the porch again and calling us by name? Whose face is pressed against the frosted pane? What hand out there is waving like a branch? By way of reply, in that cobwebbed corner a sunstruck tatter dances in the mirror.

The title of the poem attracted me, and its significance and meaning suggests Akhmatova is reflecting on her life; the poem seems to depict the end of the war, and also portrays Akhmatova’s patriotism in a sort of epiphany of Russian rebirth and renewal, as well as rekindling her spirit. The opening lines of the poem, “I have enough treasures from the past to last me longer than I need, or want,” (1-2) shows that Akhmatova is not attached to materialistic objects, as she does not need or want the treasures she has from the past. On the other hand, Akhmatova may be referring to these ‘treasures’ as memories from earlier on in her life, and as she experienced so much pain and suffering, she does not wish to relive that “malevolent memory.” (3) Akhmatova then writes about six objects she will not forget; “a modest church, with its gold cupola slightly askew; a harsh chorus of crows; the whistle of a train; a birch tree haggard in a field as if it has just been sprung from jail; a secret midnight conclave of monumental Bible-oaks; and a tiny rowboat that comes drifting out of somebody’s dreams, slowly foundering.” (5-13) It’s interesting that Akhmatova specifically mentions six objects in her poem, as this number is an archetypal symbol said to be one short of perfection, which is traditionally depicted as the number seven. Akhmatova uses excellent imagery and diction to describe the six objects, although she creates an irony with the first object, “a modest church, with its gold cupola slightly askew.” (5-6) It is ironic as a ‘gold cupola’ would not often adorn a hypothetically ‘modest church’ as this would render the church quite the opposite of being modest. The final object is “a tiny rowboat that comes drifting out of somebody’s dreams, slowly foundering” (1213) and is significant as it depicts the loss of Akhmatova’s hope. “Slowly foundering” (13) implies that the boat in question is sinking, and so when the boat of “somebody’s dreams” (13) founders, be it a small rowboat or a grand ship, it signifies the loss of hope as their dream is sinking.

This loss of hope is continued when Akhmatova reveals that she “used to think that after we are gone there’s nothing, simply nothing at all” (18-19) which ties in to the notion of despair and loss of hope; however, at the end of all this, there seems to be some salvation – some light at the end of the tunnel, and Akhmatova shows this by saying “then who’s that wandering by the porch again and calling us by name? Whose face is pressed against the frosted pane? What hand out there is waving like a branch?” (20-23) There is still hope for them, outside the window. All they need to do is unlock their door which has been bolted, in fear and despair, for so long.

When in Suicidal Anguish And when in suicidal anguish The nation awaited its German guests, And the stern spirit of Byzantium Had fled from the Russian Church, When the capital by the Neva, Forgetting her greatness, Like a drunken prostitute Did not know who would take her next, A voice came to me. It called out comfortingly, It said, "Come here, Leave your deaf and sinful land, Leave Russia forever. I will wash the blood from your hands, Root out the black shame from your heart, With a new name I will conceal The pain of defeats and injuries." But calmly and indifferently, I covered my ears with my hands, So that my sorrowing spirit Would not be stained by those shameful words. (Autumn 1917)

In Memory of M. B. Here is my gift, not roses on your grave, not sticks of burning incense. You lived aloof, maintaining to the end your magnificent disdain. You drank wine, and told the wittiest jokes, and suffocated inside stifling walls. Alone you let the terrible stranger in, and stayed with her alone.

Now you're gone, and nobody says a word about your troubled and exalted life. Only my voice, like a flute, will mourn at your dumb funeral feast. Oh, who would have dared believe that half-crazed I, I, sick with grief for the buried past, I, smoldering on a slow fire, having lost everything and forgotten all, would be fated to commemorate a man so full of strength and will and bright inventions, who only yesterday it seems, chatted with me, hiding the tremor of his mortal pain. ~Translated by Stanley Kunitz (with Max Hayward) In the poem "In memory of M.B." by Anna Akhmatova, the author explains how someone can be perceived differently on the inside compared to the outside. The theme discusses the relationship between the author and the author's friend and how even though the cancer is killing him on the inside, he puts up a barrier to hide his fate, that lets people view him as a selfless and brave person with no faults to his name. An example of a literary device that connects this theme "Only my voice, like a flute, will march at your dumb funeral feast"( Akhmatova 7). This quote is a simile that represents how she will be the only one who will know the true extent of who her friend actually was. When a person dies people tend to make up false positive traits for them, no matter how the person treated the people around them in life. An example of personification in the poem "Alone you let the terrible stranger in, and stayed with her alone"(Akhmatova 5). The author used personification because it show death or the mans illness as a stranger, someone he doesn't know or doesn't want to know, but he let him in by continuing his bad habits, which resulted in his immediate death. An example of alliteration form the poem "You drank wine, and told the wittiest jokes , and suffocated inside stifling walls"(Akhmatova 3). The author used alliteration to demonstrate the continues cycle connected to his last days which he spent drinking and joking, hiding his loneliness while suffering in silence. The poem uses modernism by displaying the bad qualities of a person that has been hidden from view with a fake smile.

For Osip Mandelstam And the town is frozen solid in a vice, Trees, walls, snow, beneath a glass. Over crystal, on slippery tracks of ice, the painted sleighs and I, together, pass. And over St Peter’s there are poplars, crows there’s a pale green dome there that glows, dim in the sun-shrouded dust. The field of heroes lingers in my thought, Kulikovo’s barbarian battleground. The frozen poplars, like glasses for a toast, clash now, more noisily, overhead. As though it was our wedding, and the crowd were drinking to our health and happiness. But Fear and the Muse take turns to guard

the room where the exiled poet is banished, and the night, marching at full pace, of the coming dawn, has no knowledge.

There are three ages to memories The last key - is the cold key of oblivion. It gives sweeter satisfaction than all the ardors of the heart.- Pushkin There are three ages to memories, And the first - is just like yesterday. The soul is under their blissful arch, And the body basks in their blissful shade. Laughter has not yet died, tears flow, The ink blot on the desk has not yet faded And, like a seal on the heart, the kiss, Unique, valedictory, unforgettable ... But this does not long endure. Already there is no arch overhead, but somewhere In a remote suburb, a solitary house, Where it is cold in winter, hot in summer, Where there are spiders, and dust on everything, Where ardent letters are decomposing, Portraits are stealthily changing. People walk to this house as if to their grave, And wash their hands with soap - when they return, And blink away a facile tear From weary eyes - and breathe out heavy sighs ... But the clock ticks, one springtime is superseded By another, the sky glows pink, Names of cities change And there are no remaining witnesses to the events, And no one to weep with, no one to remember with. And slowly the shades withdraw from us, Shades we no longer call back, Whose return would be too terrible for us. And waking one morning we realize that we have forgotten Even the path to that solitary house, And, choking with anger and shame, We run there but (as it happens in dreams), Everything has changed: the people, the objects, the walls, And nobody knows us - we are strangers. We don't find ourselves there. My God! And then it is that the bitterness wells up: We realize that we couldn't have fit

That past into the boundaries of our life, And that it is almost as foreign to us As to our next-door-neighbor, That those who died we wouldn't recognize, And those from whom God separated us Got along perfectly without us - and even That everything turned out for the best ...