The saddest poem I have ever read at 4 in the morning

Trees & ghost trees on the cover of the Russian anthology

Couldn't sleep last night. I did drift off once, but came back wide awake, so got up and went to the next room. Earlier I had been reading a biography of Chagall. It was 1920 and he'd been driven from Vitebsk by the machinations of his enemies in the art world there. The Civil War was raging. There was little food in Moscow. People were starving. The daughter of the great poet Marina Tsvetayeva starved to death. I fell asleep, woke up, grabbed an anthology of Russian poetry at 4 in the morning, I had to be up for good at 7. I found the section on Tsvetayeva and around 4:15 a.m. read the saddest poem I have ever read. I have no idea if it is about her lost daughter. But I imagine it is.

To Kiss a Forehead is to Erase Worry -- 
To kiss a forehead is to erase worry --
I kiss your forehead.
To kiss closed eyes is to bring sleep -- 
I kiss your eyes.
To kiss lips is to give water -- 
I kiss your lips.
To kiss a forehead is to erase memory -- 
I kiss your forehead.
                         - M. Tsvetayeva
                           Translated by John Glad