Here you will find thePoemIf the moon on the skies does not roamof poet Anna Akhmatova
If the moon on the skies does not roam, But cools, like a seal above, My dead husband enters the home To read the letters of love. He remembers the box, made of oak, With the lock, very secret and odd, And spreads through a floor the stroke Of his feet in the iron bond. He watches the times of the meetings And the signatures' blurry set. Hasn't had he sufficiently grievings And pains in this word until that?
