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“Why Is This Age Worse…?”

Why is this age worse than earlier ages?
In a stupor of grief and dread
have we not fingered the foulest wounds
and left them unhealed by our hands?
In the west the falling light still glows,
and the clustered housetops glitters in the sun,
but here Death is already chalking the doors with crosses,
and calling the ravens, and the ravens are flying in.
— 1919
Translated by Stanley Kunitz This poem appeared in Poems of Akhmatova by Anna Akhmatova, selected and translated by Stanley Kunitz with Max Hayward, published by Mariner Books, 1997. Shared here with profound gratitude. Read more works by Anna Akhmatova • Find books by this poet • Or view my library Explore poems in pursuit of: time • grief • existence • Or browse the index

10.09.2026

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