1 min read
Слушать

I Wrung My Hands

I wrung my hands under my dark veil. . ."Why are you pale, what makes you reckless?"— Because I have made my loved one drunkwith an astringent sadness.

I'll never forget.  He went out, reeling;his mouth was twisted, desolate. . .

I ran downstairs, not touching the banisters,and followed him as far as the gate.

And shouted, choking: "I meant it allin fun.  Don't leave me, or I'll die of pain."He smiled at me — oh so calmly, terribly —and said: "Why don't you get out of the rain?"Kiev,

Translated by Stanley Kunitz (with Max Hayward)

0
0
43
Give Award

Анна Ахматова

Стихи Анны Ахматовой. (11 [23] июня 1889 — 5 марта 1966) — поэт Серебряного века, переводчица и литературовед, одна из наиболее значимых фигур р…

Other author posts

Comments
You need to be signed in to write comments

Reading today

Бодхисатва
Рудбекия (Золотые шары)
Ryfma
Ryfma is a social app for writers and readers. Publish books, stories, fanfics, poems and get paid for your work. The friendly and free way for fans to support your work for the price of a coffee
© 2024 Ryfma. All rights reserved 12+