Why is this age worse than earlier ages?
In a stupor of grief and dread
have we not fingered the foulest wounds
and left them unhealed by our hands?
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That last stanza chilled me to the bone. When a poet pegs it, I think the reader feels a shiver go up their spine and a desire to look behind one and see if something dark is there. No wonder she is ranked as one of the four best Russian poets.
Anyone know when this was written? ? cant find it anywhere
It was written in 1919.