The sun fills my room,
Yellow dust drifts aslant.
I wake up and remember:
This is your saint’s day.
That’s why even the snow
Outside my window is warm,
Why I, sleepless, have slept
Like a communicant.
by Анна Ахматова (Anna Akhmatova)
(8 November 1913)
from Четки (Rosary Beads)
translation by D. M. Thomas
Rambling At The Bridge Head 