Blows the swan wind,
The blue sky’s smeared
With blood; the anniversary
Of your love’s first days draws near.
You have destroyed
My sorcery; like water the years
Have drifted by. Why
Aren’t you old, but as you were?
Your tender voice even more ringing…
Only your serene brow
Has taken from time’s wing
A scattering of snow.
– by Анна Ахматова (Anna Akhmatova) (1922)
– from Anno Domini MCMXXI translation by D. M. Thomas