Saturday, January 23
Anna Akhmatova
I pressed my hands together under cover
Of my veil. "Why are you so pale today?"
-- Because I intoxicated my lover
With numbing anguish, and drove him away.
How could I forget? He went out, reeling.
His mouth dreadful -- twisted, grim...
I ran down the stairs, not touching the railing,
At the gate I caught up with him.
I shouted hoarsely -- "It was just a joke.
You mustn't leave me -- I'd rather be dead."
He smiled calmly, terribly, then spoke:
"Don't stand out here in the wind," he said.
translated by Lyn Coffin
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