This page has been validated.
152
Anna Akhmatova
CONFESSION
From my poor sins I am set free.
In lilac dusk the taper smolders;
The dark stole's rigid drapery
Conceals a massive head and shoulders.
"Talitha kumi": Is it He
Once more? How fast the heart is beating . . .
A touch: a hand moves absently
The customary cross repeating.
