Valentine’s Day Poems About Love, written by the famous poet Anna Akhmatova, February 14, you can give your loved one who is or was in your life.

Valentine's Day Poems About Love

Anna Akhmatova Valentine’s Day Poems About Love

There are people in the vicinity of a cherished feature

There are people in the vicinity of a cherished feature, it will
not go love and passion –
Let eerie silence merge mouth,
And my heart is torn apart by love.

And friendship is powerless, and the
High and fiery happiness,
When the soul is free an alien
slowness languor of sensuality. Aspiring to her mad, and have attained it – amazed anguish … Now, do you understand why my heart does not beat under your hand?

From your love mysterious,
as if in pain, a scream,
turn yellow and epileptic,
barely drag my feet. The new songs are not whistling – Songs for a long time eh cheat, but claws, claws furiously I consumptive chest, so that the blood gushed from his throat Hurry on the bed To the death of the heart took forever damned hops.

I know you’re my reward

I know you’re my reward
During the years of pain and labor,
for the fact that I
did not betray the earth Joy never,
in fact, that I did not say
the Beloved: “You are loved.”
Because all I do not forgive,
you’re my angel …

Love conquers fraudulently

Love conquers falsely,
singing simple, unskilful.
Not so long ago,
you were not strange gray and sad. And when she smiled in your garden, in the house, in the field, everywhere you looked, you could freely and at will. It was bright you are, taken by her and drank her poison. Because the stars were bigger, It smelled the ineche grass, autumn grass.

This tender cannot be confused

This tenderness is not
confused with anything, and it is quiet.
You’re vain carefully Kuta
my shoulders and chest fur. And in vain the word obedient to talk about first love, How do I know those stubborn Nesytye your views!

Love

That snake, curled,
have the heart of the caster
That whole day dove
coos on a white box, then frost bright flash, seemed to slumber wallflowers … But it is true and secretly leads from the joy and of peace. It knows how to cry so sweet in prayer yearning violin, and scared her even to guess in a strange smile.

You are my letter, dear, do not crumble.

You are my letter, dear, do not crumble.
By the end of it, my friend, read it.
I’m tired to be a stranger,
a stranger Be on your way. Do not look so do not frown angrily. I am loved, I am yours. Do not shepherdess, not the princess and not I nun – This gray, workaday dress, worn on the heels … But, as before is burning embrace, the same fear in his eyes huge. You have my letter, my dear, do not crumble, do not cry about cherished lies; you’re it in your poor knapsack on the bottom put