"Requiem" is one of Anna Akhmatova's most famous and powerful works, written between 1935 and 1940, though it wasn't published in full until later due to censorship in the Soviet Union. The poem is a deeply personal and collective reflection on the pain and suffering experienced during the Great Terror under Stalin's regime, when millions of people were arrested, tortured, and executed. Akhmatova herself endured the anguish of having her first husband, Lev Gumilyov, and her son, Lev, imprisoned.
"Requiem" is often described as a monumental work of mourning, grief, and defiance, embodying the voices of the mothers, wives, and loved ones of the victims of Stalin's purges. The poem captures the profound emotional toll on those who endured the terror, as well as the sense of helplessness in the face of an oppressive, totalitarian system. It is composed of several sections, and its tone ranges from deeply sorrowful to defiant, offering an intimate portrayal of the human cost of political repression.
The poem is structured in a way that allows Akhmatova to weave personal narrative with universal themes of loss and suffering. Despite the brutality of the time, "Requiem" stands as a testament to resilience, even in the face of overwhelming tragedy.
🔴 Summary of Requiem
From Preface to Introduction
◼️ Requiem
Not under foreign skies
Nor under foreign wings protected -
I shared all this with my own people
There, where misfortune had abandoned us.
[1961]
INSTEAD OF A PREFACE
During the frightening years of the Yezhov terror, I
spent seventeen months waiting in prison queues in
Leningrad. One day, somehow, someone 'picked me out'.
On that occasion there was a woman standing behind me,
her lips blue with cold, who, of course, had never in
her life heard my name. Jolted out of the torpor
characteristic of all of us, she said into my ear
(everyone whispered there) - 'Could one ever describe
this?' And I answered - 'I can.' It was then that
something like a smile slid across what had previously
been just a face.
[The 1st of April in the year 1957. Leningrad]
This excerpt from Anna Akhmatova's Requiem provides a deeply personal and poignant reflection on her experience during the Great Terror in the Soviet Union, particularly her time spent waiting in long lines at the prison to get news of her son, Lev, who had been imprisoned.
1. "Not under foreign skies / Nor under foreign wings protected - / I shared all this with my own people / There, where misfortune had abandoned us."
- This opening lines reflect Akhmatova's deep connection to her homeland and people, even as they suffered under the oppressive regime. She feels that her suffering is shared by all of her fellow Russians, who were also enduring the hardships of the Stalinist terror. The phrase "misfortune had abandoned us" suggests that the suffering of the people has become their collective reality, with no escape or relief from the horrors they faced.
2. "During the frightening years of the Yezhov terror, I spent seventeen months waiting in prison queues in Leningrad."
- This part refers to the period of the Yezhov Terror (named after Nikolai Yezhov, head of the NKVD during the purges of the late 1930s), when millions of Soviet citizens were arrested, tortured, and executed. Akhmatova spent seventeen months in line outside prisons in Leningrad (now St. Petersburg), hoping to get news of her son, who had been arrested. The long waits in these queues were part of the harrowing, everyday reality for the families of the imprisoned.
3. "One day, somehow, someone 'picked me out'. / On that occasion there was a woman standing behind me, / her lips blue with cold, who, of course, had never in / her life heard my name."
- In these lines, Akhmatova recalls an encounter with a woman in the prison queue. The woman, who had never met her, noticed her and spoke to her in a moment of shared, wordless understanding. The image of the woman's "blue lips with cold" conveys the harshness and dehumanizing conditions they endured while waiting.
4. "Jolted out of the torpor characteristic of all of us, she said into my ear / (everyone whispered there) - 'Could one ever describe / this?' And I answered - 'I can.' It was then that / something like a smile slid across what had previously / been just a face."
- The woman’s question, "Could one ever describe this?" speaks to the indescribable nature of their suffering. It is a profound moment, as they are all numb from the overwhelming grief and helplessness they experience. Akhmatova responds, “I can,” signaling her determination to bear witness to the suffering around her and to document it in her poetry. Her answer reflects her resolve to write the truth of their pain, even when it seems beyond words. The "smile" that "slid across" the woman's face shows that, even in such dire circumstances, the woman recognizes the importance of Akhmatova's role as a poet and witness to their shared tragedy.
This part of Requiem highlights both the personal and collective anguish of the time, as well as Akhmatova's commitment to give voice to those who suffered in silence, creating a powerful sense of shared experience among those in the prison queues and the broader Soviet society.
◼️ DEDICATION
Mountains fall before this grief,
A mighty river stops its flow,
But prison doors stay firmly bolted
Shutting off the convict burrows
And an anguish close to death.
Fresh winds softly blow for someone,
Gentle sunsets warm them through; we don't know this,
We are everywhere the same, listening
To the scrape and turn of hateful keys
And the heavy tread of marching soldiers.
Waking early, as if for early mass,
Walking through the capital run wild, gone to seed,
We'd meet - the dead, lifeless; the sun,
Lower every day; the Neva, mistier:
But hope still sings forever in the distance.
The verdict. Immediately a flood of tears,
Followed by a total isolation,
As if a beating heart is painfully ripped out, or,
Thumped, she lies there brutally laid out,
But she still manages to walk, hesitantly, alone.
Where are you, my unwilling friends,
Captives of my two satanic years?
What miracle do you see in a Siberian blizzard?
What shimmering mirage around the circle of the moon?
I send each one of you my salutation, and farewell.
[March 1940]
This passage from Anna Akhmatova’s *Requiem* is a heart-wrenching depiction of the grief, suffering, and isolation that characterized her experience during the Stalinist purges and the Great Terror, particularly the emotional toll of waiting for news of her son, who had been imprisoned. The imagery and themes reflect the brutality of the time, as well as Akhmatova’s deep empathy and connection to the suffering of others. Here’s a breakdown of some of the key elements of the passage:
1. "Mountains fall before this grief, / A mighty river stops its flow, / But prison doors stay firmly bolted / Shutting off the convict burrows / And an anguish close to death."
- Akhmatova begins by illustrating the overwhelming power of grief, suggesting that it is so profound that even the natural forces of the world—mountains and rivers—would yield to it. However, despite this immense sorrow, the prison doors remain shut, symbolizing the unrelenting nature of the oppression and the feeling of being trapped in this anguish. The phrase "convict burrows" evokes images of the secretive, dark places where political prisoners were held, emphasizing their isolation and suffering.
2. "Fresh winds softly blow for someone, / Gentle sunsets warm them through; we don't know this, / We are everywhere the same, listening / To the scrape and turn of hateful keys / And the heavy tread of marching soldiers."
- This passage contrasts the natural beauty and comfort experienced by others, with the harsh, oppressive reality faced by Akhmatova and the people she speaks for. The "fresh winds" and "gentle sunsets" represent a world of peace and comfort, but for Akhmatova and those trapped in the prisons, these simple pleasures are beyond reach. Instead, they are consumed by the cold, mechanical sounds of prison life—the scraping of keys and the heavy footsteps of soldiers. The repetition of "we" underscores the shared experience of suffering.
3. "Waking early, as if for early mass, / Walking through the capital run wild, gone to seed, / We'd meet - the dead, lifeless; the sun, / Lower every day; the Neva, mistier:"
- Akhmatova uses the image of waking early “as if for early mass” to symbolize the routine and suffering that the prisoners' families, including herself, endured. Walking through the "capital run wild, gone to seed," is a bleak description of Leningrad (St. Petersburg), which had been ravaged by the purges and the terror. "The dead, lifeless" suggests the spiritual and emotional deadness caused by the fear and loss of the time. The lowering sun and mistier Neva evoke a sense of decline and foreboding, as if the very essence of the city is being swallowed by despair.
4. "But hope still sings forever in the distance."
- Despite the overwhelming sorrow, there is still a glimmer of hope. This line offers a slight but powerful contrast to the despair, suggesting that, even in the darkest of times, hope persists, though it seems far away, just out of reach.
5. "The verdict. Immediately a flood of tears, / Followed by a total isolation, / As if a beating heart is painfully ripped out, or, / Thumped, she lies there brutally laid out, / But she still manages to walk, hesitantly, alone."
- Here, Akhmatova describes the moment when a family receives news of the verdict (most likely the sentence of a loved one). The "flood of tears" signifies the overwhelming sorrow that accompanies such news, while "total isolation" reflects the emotional and social separation that comes with being connected to someone who has been imprisoned or executed. The metaphor of a "beating heart... ripped out" illustrates the deep, visceral pain of loss. Despite this, the person (presumably Akhmatova herself or the women in similar situations) continues to "walk, hesitantly, alone," highlighting both the enduring pain and the quiet strength needed to carry on in such circumstances.
6. "Where are you, my unwilling friends, / Captives of my two satanic years?"
- Akhmatova speaks directly to the others who have suffered with her during the two years of terror, referring to them as "unwilling friends," individuals who share in her grief and loss. The phrase "satanic years" reflects the hellish nature of those years, marked by injustice, brutality, and torment.
7. "What miracle do you see in a Siberian blizzard? / What shimmering mirage around the circle of the moon?"
- This is a haunting image of the cold, desolate environment faced by political prisoners in Siberian labor camps. Akhmatova questions if there is any hope or salvation to be found in such an inhospitable place. The "Siberian blizzard" represents the harsh, unforgiving nature of the Soviet system, while the "shimmering mirage" around the moon evokes a fleeting, illusory hope that can never be fully realized.
8. "I send each one of you my salutation, and farewell."
- This is a final, poignant gesture of both recognition and loss. Akhmatova bids farewell to the prisoners and the suffering individuals she has written for, acknowledging the profound separation between them.
This section, like much of Requiem, conveys the horror, grief, and isolation of Akhmatova's experience during the Stalinist purges. It also captures her emotional strength, the quiet perseverance of those who lived through the terror, and the enduring sense of hope that, despite everything, still flickers in the distance.
◼️ INTRODUCTION
[PRELUDE]
It happened like this when only the dead
Were smiling, glad of their release,
That Leningrad hung around its prisons
Like a worthless emblem, flapping its piece.
Shrill and sharp, the steam-whistles sang
Short songs of farewell
To the ranks of convicted, demented by suffering,
As they, in regiments, walked along -
Stars of death stood over us
As innocent Russia squirmed
Under the blood-spattered boots and tyres
Of the black marias.
This passage from the Prelude of Anna Akhmatova's Requiem captures the bleak, oppressive atmosphere of Leningrad during the Great Terror. The imagery is stark and evocative, conveying the cruelty and hopelessness that defined the period of Stalin's purges. Let's break down the key elements:
1. "It happened like this when only the dead / Were smiling, glad of their release,"
- This opening line creates a chilling image of death being a release from the horrors of life under Stalin's regime. The "dead smiling" suggests that, for those who perished, death was preferable to the suffering they endured, a grim reflection on the state of the living under oppression.
2. "That Leningrad hung around its prisons / Like a worthless emblem, flapping its piece."
- Akhmatova describes Leningrad (now St. Petersburg) as a city that is weighed down and defined by its prisons. The metaphor of the city "flapping its piece" suggests a feeling of degradation, as though the city itself has become a symbol of futility, helplessness, and the violence of the era. The "worthless emblem" may also refer to the idea that the city, once a vibrant cultural center, now only serves as a place of repression.
3. "Shrill and sharp, the steam-whistles sang / Short songs of farewell / To the ranks of convicted, demented by suffering,"
- The "shrill and sharp" steam-whistles are symbolic of the brutal, mechanical nature of the regime, and the "short songs of farewell" are a mournful tribute to the convicted individuals. These men and women, "demented by suffering," are the victims of Stalin's purges, their minds and bodies broken by the terror they’ve endured.
4. "As they, in regiments, walked along - / Stars of death stood over us"
- The prisoners are marched in "regiments," dehumanized and organized like soldiers, but in reality, they are being led to their deaths. The "stars of death" that "stood over us" symbolize the ever-present threat of execution and the pervasive nature of death during the purges.
5. "As innocent Russia squirmed / Under the blood-spattered boots and tyres / Of the black marias."
- "Innocent Russia" is portrayed as a nation that is suffering under the weight of unjust violence. The "blood-spattered boots and tyres" evoke images of the NKVD’s brutality, using force to silence dissent and instill fear. The "black marias" refer to the black prison vans used to transport prisoners, which are associated with death, fear, and oppression.
This excerpt from Prelude sets the tone for Requiem, capturing the oppressive atmosphere of Stalin's terror and the suffering of the innocent. The imagery is raw, evocative, and full of grief, reflecting the despair of the time and the inescapable nature of the state’s control and violence. Through the depiction of Leningrad, the prisoners, and the pervasive sense of doom, Akhmatova paints a harrowing picture of life during one of the darkest periods in Russian history.
🔴 Stanza Wise Summary of Requiem
◼️STANZA 1
You were taken away at dawn. I followed you
As one does when a corpse is being removed.
Children were crying in the darkened house.
A candle flared, illuminating the Mother of God. . .
The cold of an icon was on your lips, a death-cold
sweat
On your brow - I will never forget this; I will gather
To wail with the wives of the murdered streltsy (1)
Inconsolably, beneath the Kremlin towers.
[1935. Autumn. Moscow]
This passage from Anna Akhmatova's Requiem describes a deeply emotional and haunting memory of the speaker witnessing the arrest or execution of a loved one. The scene takes place at dawn, and the speaker follows the person as if they were a corpse being removed, symbolizing the finality of their fate. The children cry in the darkened house, and a candle briefly illuminates an icon of the Mother of God, adding a religious and mournful tone to the moment. The speaker is struck by the death-cold sweat on the person's brow, a vivid image of the suffering and fear experienced. The speaker vows never to forget this moment and connects their grief to the historical suffering of the wives of the murdered streltsy, echoing the deep, unending sorrow of those who have lost loved ones to political violence. The setting, with the Kremlin towers in the background, emphasizes the political and historical context of the suffering.
◼️STANZA 2
Silent flows the river Don
A yellow moon looks quietly on
Swanking about, with cap askew
It sees through the window a shadow of you
Gravely ill, all alone
The moon sees a woman lying at home
Her son is in jail, her husband is dead
Say a prayer for her instead
This passage from Anna Akhmatova's *Requiem* evokes a haunting image of a woman suffering in isolation. The river Don flows silently, and the yellow moon looks quietly upon the scene, observing the woman's grief. The moon, personified as a silent witness, sees a shadow of the woman through a window as she lies gravely ill, alone. Her son is in prison, and her husband is dead, which compounds her misery. The speaker suggests that one should pray for this woman, highlighting her immense sorrow and suffering. The imagery of the moon, the river, and the woman's solitude underscores the themes of loss, isolation, and the personal toll of political repression during the Soviet era.
◼️STANZA 3 & 4
It isn't me, someone else is suffering. I couldn't.
Not like this. Everything that has happened,
Cover it with a black cloth,
Then let the torches be removed. . .
Night.
IV
Giggling, poking fun, everyone's darling,
The carefree sinner of Tsarskoye Selo (2)
If only you could have foreseen
What life would do with you -
That you would stand, parcel in hand,
Beneath the Crosses (3), three hundredth in
line,
Burning the new year's ice
With your hot tears.
Back and forth the prison poplar sways
With not a sound - how many innocent
Blameless lives are being taken away. . .
[1938]
This passages from Anna Akhmatova's Requiem reflects on the overwhelming sorrow and the stark reality of suffering under the Stalinist regime. The speaker begins by distancing themselves from the suffering, suggesting that it is someone else, not them, enduring the pain. They express a desire to cover the events with a "black cloth," a metaphor for hiding or burying the trauma, and remove the torches, symbolizing the end of public spectacle or attention. Then, night falls, representing the darkness and silence of the aftermath.
In the fourth stanza of the poem, the speaker reflects on a carefree person from Tsarskoye Selo, a place associated with the Russian aristocracy, who is oblivious to the tragic fate that awaits them. The person, once joyful and free, finds themselves in a terrible situation, standing at the Crosses (a notorious location where executions took place) among many others, their tears burning through the ice as they wait for their fate. The "prison poplar" swaying without a sound symbolizes the quiet, almost unnoticed suffering of those being taken away, highlighting the brutal, systemic nature of the purges. The reference to "how many innocent blameless lives are being taken away" emphasizes the senselessness of the violence, as innocent people are caught in the machinery of the state's terror. The tone is one of grief, regret, and helplessness, underscoring the scale of the tragedy.
◼️STANZA 5 & 6
V
For seventeen months I have been screaming,
Calling you home.
I've thrown myself at the feet of butchers
For you, my son and my horror.
Everything has become muddled forever -
I can no longer distinguish
Who is an animal, who a person, and how long
The wait can be for an execution.
There are now only dusty flowers,
The chinking of the thurible,
Tracks from somewhere into nowhere
And, staring me in the face
And threatening me with swift annihilation,
An enormous star.
[1939]
VI
Weeks fly lightly by. Even so,
I cannot understand what has arisen,
How, my son, into your prison
White nights stare so brilliantly.
Now once more they burn,
Eyes that focus like a hawk,
And, upon your cross, the talk
Is again of death.
[1939. Spring]
In these two passages from Anna Akhmatova's *Requiem*, the speaker poignantly conveys the profound emotional and psychological torment experienced due to the arrest and imprisonment of a loved one under Stalin's purges.
In the fifth section (1939), the speaker describes a relentless and desperate effort to secure the release of her son, engaging in futile acts of pleading and submission to the "butchers" of the regime. The imagery of screaming and throwing herself at their feet conveys the desperation and dehumanization felt by the mother. The speaker’s emotional state is fragmented, as evidenced by the inability to distinguish between humans and animals, suggesting the blurring of moral and ethical lines in an environment where cruelty has become normalized. The "dusty flowers" and the "chinking of the thurible" symbolize the remnants of rituals, perhaps evoking a sense of loss or mourning, while the "enormous star" likely refers to the overarching and oppressive presence of the state, with its threats of annihilation hanging over the speaker’s existence. The star, which can be interpreted as a symbol of the regime or the heavens, emphasizes the existential dread faced by those trapped within the system.
In the sixth section (1939, Spring), the passage transitions to a more contemplative tone, focusing on the passage of time. Despite the "weeks fly lightly by," the speaker remains unable to fully comprehend the situation, suggesting an ongoing psychological struggle. The "white nights" referenced here are likely a metaphor for a state of unrelenting illumination or awareness, where even the beauty of nature is overshadowed by the brutal reality of her son’s imprisonment. The "hawk-like" focus of the eyes may symbolize the intensity with which the authorities are monitoring their prisoners, and the "talk of death" reinforces the constant threat that looms over the speaker's son, adding to the ongoing sense of dread and helplessness.
Both sections convey a state of emotional paralysis, with the speaker's grief intertwined with a deepening awareness of the ever-present danger and dehumanization that pervades their lives under the Stalinist regime. The personal suffering is intricately connected to the broader atmosphere of fear, control, and violence during the purges, with Akhmatova using vivid imagery to encapsulate the emotional and psychological toll of living under such terror.
◼️STANZA 7&8
VII
THE VERDICT
The word landed with a stony thud
Onto my still-beating breast.
Nevermind, I was prepared,
I will manage with the rest.
I have a lot of work to do today;
I need to slaughter memory,
Turn my living soul to stone
Then teach myself to live again. . .
But how. The hot summer rustles
Like a carnival outside my window;
I have long had this premonition
Of a bright day and a deserted house.
[22 June 1939. Summer. Fontannyi Dom (4)]
VIII
TO DEATH
You will come anyway - so why not now?
I wait for you; things have become too hard.
I have turned out the lights and opened the door
For you, so simple and so wonderful.
Assume whatever shape you wish. Burst in
Like a shell of noxious gas. Creep up on me
Like a practised bandit with a heavy weapon.
Poison me, if you want, with a typhoid exhalation,
Or, with a simple tale prepared by you
(And known by all to the point of nausea), take me
Before the commander of the blue caps and let me
glimpse
The house administrator's terrified white face.
I don't care anymore. The river Yenisey
Swirls on. The Pole star blazes.
The blue sparks of those much-loved eyes
Close over and cover the final horror.
[19 August 1939. Fontannyi Dom]
In Stanzas VII and VIII of Requiem, Akhmatova continues to explore themes of suffering, despair, and the inescapable presence of death, both metaphorically and literally, in the face of political oppression.
**Stanza VII (The Verdict)**
The speaker reflects on receiving an irreversible decision or sentence, which "lands with a stony thud" on her chest, symbolizing the crushing weight of this pronouncement. The speaker suggests that, while painful, she was prepared for it, revealing a resigned acceptance of her fate. Despite this acceptance, she must "slaughter memory" and "turn my living soul to stone," indicating the need to shut down emotionally in order to survive in a world defined by loss and cruelty. The desire to "live again" implies the ongoing struggle to maintain some semblance of life and purpose amid overwhelming grief and hopelessness. The contrast between the "hot summer rustles" outside and the speaker's internal turmoil suggests the disconnect between the external world, seemingly vibrant and carefree, and the speaker’s inner world of suffering. The premonition of a "bright day and a deserted house" evokes a sense of abandonment and isolation, where the world moves on, indifferent to her pain.
**Stanza VIII (To Death)**
In this stanza, the speaker directly addresses death, embracing it as inevitable and, ultimately, a welcome escape from the pain and hardships she faces. There is an eerie calmness in the way the speaker opens the door to death, offering it the freedom to come "in whatever shape" it wishes. The speaker no longer fears death but seems to invite it, whether it arrives as a violent, sudden force or in a more subtle, poisonous form. The reference to the "commander of the blue caps" and the "house administrator’s terrified white face" hints at the corrupt and fear-driven power structures of Stalin’s regime, where even small authorities become complicit in cruelty. The speaker seems to have grown numb to these threats, indifferent to whatever form death may take. The final lines, with the mention of the Yenisey River, the Pole star, and the "blue sparks of those much-loved eyes," juxtapose natural beauty and cosmic forces with the emotional closure of death. The "final horror" refers to the inevitable end, yet the speaker seems to embrace it as a release from the constant terror and sorrow that pervade her life.
Both stanzas reflect Akhmatova's deep despair and sense of resignation, as the speaker faces the harsh realities of Soviet political repression, the trauma of personal loss, and the unrelenting psychological toll that comes with living under such a regime. Death, in this context, is not seen as a release from physical pain alone, but as an end to an existence marked by constant fear, grief, and dehumanization.
◼️STANZA 9 & 10
IX
Madness with its wings
Has covered half my soul
It feeds me fiery wine
And lures me into the abyss.
That's when I understood
While listening to my alien delirium
That I must hand the victory
To it.
However much I nag
However much I beg
It will not let me take
One single thing away:
Not my son's frightening eyes -
A suffering set in stone,
Or prison visiting hours
Or days that end in storms
Nor the sweet coolness of a hand
The anxious shade of lime trees
Nor the light distant sound
Of final comforting words.
[14 May 1940. Fontannyi Dom]
X
CRUCIFIXION
Weep not for me, mother.
I am alive in my grave.
1.
A choir of angels glorified the greatest hour,
The heavens melted into flames.
To his father he said, 'Why hast thou forsaken me!'
But to his mother, 'Weep not for me. . .'
[1940. Fontannyi Dom]
Magdalena smote herself and wept,
The favourite disciple turned to stone,
But there, where the mother stood silent,
Not one person dared to look.
[1943. Tashkent]
In Stanzas IX and X of *Requiem*, Akhmatova continues her exploration of despair, madness, suffering, and spiritual pain, using rich imagery and references to religious and personal themes.
**Stanza IX (Madness)**
In this stanza, the speaker describes how madness, symbolized by wings, takes control of half her soul, consuming her with fiery wine and pulling her into an abyss. This madness seems to offer some kind of escape or release, but at the cost of surrendering to it. The speaker comes to the painful realization that, despite her struggles and pleas, she must yield to this madness, as it has become an overwhelming force. The things that torment her—her son’s "frightening eyes," the agony of prison visits, the storms that end each day, and the longing for comfort—are inescapable. The speaker is powerless to reclaim these lost moments, as they are bound by suffering and fate. The longing for simple comforts, like the coolness of a hand or the shade of lime trees, underscores the depth of her emotional desolation. The imagery of "alien delirium" suggests that the speaker feels detached from herself, as if her mind and soul are being overtaken by forces beyond her control. This stanza emphasizes the complete mental and emotional exhaustion the speaker feels, highlighting the irrevocable nature of her grief and the futility of trying to escape it.
**Stanza X (Crucifixion)**
The first part of Stanza X begins with a reference to the crucifixion of Christ, where the speaker takes on the voice of Christ, telling his mother not to weep for him. This allusion to Christ’s suffering reflects the deep, existential pain that the speaker herself endures, as though she too is undergoing a form of crucifixion in her own life, both through personal loss and the oppressive atmosphere of Stalin’s terror. The description of a "choir of angels" glorifying "the greatest hour" and the heavens melting into flames is a vivid image of the sacred event, yet it is contrasted with Christ’s plea to his father, "Why hast thou forsaken me?" The emphasis on Christ's words to his mother—"Weep not for me"—is particularly poignant, suggesting a moment of profound sacrifice and acceptance.
The second part of the stanza shifts to focus on the mother figure, who stands in silence during Christ’s crucifixion. Magdalena (Mary Magdalene) weeps, and the favored disciple (likely John) turns to stone, but the mother is the only one who remains silent. The silence of the mother is a powerful symbol of grief that transcends words. The people around her, paralyzed by the intensity of her suffering, "dare not look," highlighting the unbearable weight of her loss and the isolation it brings. This silence of the mother mirrors the speaker's own emotional isolation, as she too must endure the silence and suffering imposed upon her by the political and personal traumas in her life.
Together, these stanzas reflect the depth of emotional and spiritual anguish, connecting personal suffering to universal themes of loss and sacrifice. Akhmatova uses religious imagery, particularly the crucifixion, to underscore the intensity of her own suffering, positioning herself as a figure of grief akin to that of Christ’s mother. The relentless emotional turmoil and the sense of being forsaken are central to the speaker’s experience, as she confronts the inescapable realities of political repression, familial loss, and internal despair.
◼️EPILOGUE
1.
I have learned how faces fall,
How terror can escape from lowered eyes,
How suffering can etch cruel pages
Of cuneiform-like marks upon the cheeks.
I know how dark or ash-blond strands of hair
Can suddenly turn white. I've learned to recognise
The fading smiles upon submissive lips,
The trembling fear inside a hollow laugh.
That's why I pray not for myself
But all of you who stood there with me
Through fiercest cold and scorching July heat
Under a towering, completely blind red wall.
2.
The hour has come to remember the dead.
I see you, I hear you, I feel you:
The one who resisted the long drag to the open window;
The one who could no longer feel the kick of familiar
soil beneath her feet;
The one who, with a sudden flick of her head, replied,
'I arrive here as if I've come home!'
I'd like to name you all by name, but the list
Has been removed and there is nowhere else to look.
So,
I have woven you this wide shroud out of the humble
words
I overheard you use. Everywhere, forever and always,
I will never forget one single thing. Even in new
grief.
Even if they clamp shut my tormented mouth
Through which one hundred million people scream;
That's how I wish them to remember me when I am dead
On the eve of my remembrance day.
If someone someday in this country
Decides to raise a memorial to me,
I give my consent to this festivity
But only on this condition - do not build it
By the sea where I was born,
I have severed my last ties with the sea;
Nor in the Tsar's Park by the hallowed stump
Where an inconsolable shadow looks for me;
Build it here where I stood for three hundred hours
And no-one slid open the bolt.
Listen, even in blissful death I fear
That I will forget the Black Marias,
Forget how hatefully the door slammed and an old woman
Howled like a wounded beast.
Let the thawing ice flow like tears
From my immovable bronze eyelids
And let the prison dove coo in the distance
While ships sail quietly along the river.
[March 1940. Fontannyi Dom]
In the Epilogue of Requiem, Anna Akhmatova reflects on the deep emotional and physical toll that the terror of Stalin's regime has inflicted on herself and others, while also contemplating her own legacy and the memory of the suffering.
First Section
Akhamatova describes the transformation caused by terror, how it marks individuals both physically and emotionally. She acknowledges the profound impact of suffering on people’s appearance—how fear and torment can make faces fall, eyes lower, and hair turn white. The imagery of "cuneiform-like marks" suggests the permanent, etched nature of suffering, which leaves people marked in ways that go beyond the visible, influencing their very essence. The speaker reveals that she has learned to recognize these changes in others, and, as a result, she no longer prays for herself but for those who stood with her, enduring the same harsh conditions, both in winter and summer, under oppressive power. The "towering, completely blind red wall" likely symbolizes the oppressive, unfeeling force of the regime, which blocked any empathy or hope.
Second Section
The second part of the epilogue shifts to a more spiritual and memorial tone, as the speaker reflects on the dead, both those who perished in the purges and those who lived through the horrors with her. Akhmatova imagines her companions—those who resisted the regime, who couldn’t endure the isolation, and who found some form of defiance or solace in their suffering. Though she wishes to name them individually, she cannot, as the records of their lives have been erased. Instead, she weaves a "wide shroud" out of their words, the only thing left to preserve their memory. The act of remembering, for Akhmatova, becomes a form of resistance—an act of defiance against the erasure of history and the suppression of truth.
The speaker then contemplates her own death, envisioning how she will be remembered. She wishes to be commemorated not in her birthplace by the sea or in a place tied to royalty, but in the place where she endured the most intense suffering, symbolized by the "three hundred hours" in prison and the sound of the "Black Marias" (the police vans that would transport prisoners). Even in death, the speaker is haunted by the fear of forgetting, particularly the visceral, traumatic memories of prison life and the sound of the door slamming shut. The imagery of "thawing ice" flowing like tears, and the "prison dove" cooing in the distance, creates a sense of mournful beauty, suggesting that even in death, her spirit will be tied to the memories of suffering, resistance, and loss.
The epilogue ends with a powerful wish for remembrance, where even in death, Akhmatova wants her memory to serve as a testimony to the suffering endured by the countless victims of Stalin’s terror. The use of imagery—frozen tears, prison doves, and the quiet flow of the river—evokes a sense of ongoing mourning and an unyielding desire to remember, no matter how much the oppressive forces try to erase history.
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