/Why then do we not despair?/

Anna Akhmatova’s poem: “Everything is Plundered, Betrayed, Sold” Everything is plundered, betrayed, sold, Death’s great black wing scrapes the air, Misery gnaws to the bone. Why then do we not despair? By day, from the surrounding woods, cherries blow summer into town; at night the deep transparent skies glitter with new galaxies. And the miraculousContinue reading “/Why then do we not despair?/”