Anna Akhmatova

23 June 1889 – 5 March 1966 / Odessa

The Last Toast

I drink to home, that is lost,
To evil life of mine,
To loneness in which we’re both,
And to your future, fine, --

To lips by which I was betrayed,
To eyes that deathly cold,
To that that the world is bad and that
We were not saved by God.
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