Lyudmila Purgina (Russian Federation)
A.Akhmatova, Grasped my hands... - translation (rus.)
by Anna Akhmatova
Grasped my hands under veil dark 'n swarthy...
'Why today so pale you are? '
'That's from sorrow, astringent sorrow,
Which I've fed to him fully, by far.'
How could I forget? Staggered out,
Twisted mouth on grimacing face...
I've run, trying rails not to touch though,
I've followed him up to gates.
Gasped for breath, I've cried to him: 'Joke!
All was joke! I'll die, when you go...'
Smiled he, said with quiet and horror:
'Don't stay in the wind, it is cold! '
Comments about this poem (A.Akhmatova, Grasped my hands... - translation (rus.) by Lyudmila Purgina )
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