Author Anna Akhmatova One goes in straightforward ways, One in a circle roams: Waits for a girl of his gone days, Or for returning home. But I do go -- and woe is there -- By a way nor straight, nor broad, But into never and nowhere, Like trains -- off the railroad. Rate this poem Select ratingGive it 1/5Give it 2/5Give it 3/5Give it 4/5Give it 5/5 No votes yet Rate Log in or register to post comments