The road is black by the beach –
Garden. Lamps yellow and fresh.
I’m very calm.
I’d rather not talk about him.
I’ve a lot of feelings for you. You’re kind.
We’ll kiss, grow old, walk around.
Light months will fly over us.
Like snowy stars.
– by Анна Ахматова (Anna Akhmatova) (1914)
– from Белая стая (White Flock, 1917) translation by D. M. Thomas
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