Ivan Bunin: In an Empty House

Ivan Bunin

FROM the walls the paper’s blue is vanished,
 The daguerreotypes, the ikons banished.
 Only there the deepened blue appears
 Where these hid it, hanging through the years.

 From the heart the memory is perished,
 Perished all that long ago it cherished!
 Those remain, of whom death hides the face,
 Leaving their yet unforgotten trace.


Popular posts from this blog

Solzhenitsyn’s cathedrals

Svetlana Alexievich: ‘After communism we thought everything would be fine. But people don’t understand freedom’

Darkness of a drawer - Mikhail Bulgakov