Anna Akhmatova was a Russian poet, activist, and overall badass who protested against Stalinism in the first half of the twentieth century. As a young woman she attended law school (like another future law student and talented poet whose last name rhymes with Bosco) and was a founding member of the anti-Symbolist Acmeist movement. She was married three times (one husband was executed, while another died in a labor camp), and Akhmatova herself was often threatened by government opposition. Jane Kenyon has a great book of translations, Twenty Poems of Anna Akhmatova — here’s one.
The memory of sun weakens in my heart,
grass turns yellow,
wind blows the early flakes of snow
Already the narrow canals have stopped flowing;
Nothing will ever happen here—
Against the empty sky the willow opens
A transparent fan.
Maybe it’s a good thing I’m not
The memory of sun weakens in my heart.
What’s this? Darkness?
It’s possible. And this may be the first night