Saturday, December 31, 2016

The Last Toast by Anna Akhmatova

The Last Toast

I drink to our ruined house,
to the dolor of my life,
to our loneliness together;
and to you I raise my glass,
to lying lips that have betrayed us,
to dead-cold, pitiless eyes,
and to the hard realities:
that the world is brutal and coarse,
that God in fact has not saved us.

(Translated by Stanley Kunitz and Max Hayward)


1 comment:

  1. Just want to say how much I appreciate the art and poetry of your tweets. Don't know how you do it. An Unnecessary Woman was brilliant. Ever grateful, Becky Okrent