Yes, I loved those nocturnal gatherings -
The iced glasses on the little table,
A fine steam from the black, fragrant coffee,
The red fire roaring, the winter heat,
The laughter at caustic literary jokes,
And a stranger's gaze, helpless and dreadful.
Return to the Anna Akhmatova Home Page, or . . . Read the next poem; 'You should appear less often in my dreams'