Twenty-First. Night. Monday

Anna Akhmatova

Twenty-first. Night. Monday.

Silhouette of the capitol in darkness.

Some good-for-nothing–who knows why–

made up the tale that love exists on earth.

People believe it, maybe from laziness

or boredom, and live accordingly:

they wait eagerly for meetings, fear parting,

and when they sing, they sing about love.

But the secret reveals itself to some,

and on them silence settles down...

I found this out by accident

and now it seems I'm sick all the time.

Mentioned in this episode:

Write After: National Poetry Month with One Poem Only

Write After is a way to encourage poets to listen and write, and use National Poetry Month to highlight how listening to poetry makes us better poets. I know I write the best when I’m surrounded by beautiful poetry–it’s part of the reason I created this podcast, and I want to encourage others to share this practice. We'll get started in April. You can share to #WriteAfterOPO.

#WriteAfterOPO