by Anna Akhmatova
Grasped my hands under the veil dark 'n swarthy...
"Why today so pale are you?"
"That's from sorrow, the astringent sorrow,
Which I've fed to him fully, as truth."
How could I forget? He went staggering,
The twisted mouth and grimace on face...
I've run, trying not to touch rails,
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 so quiet with horror:
"Don't stay in the wind, it is cold!"
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Анна Ахматова
* * *
Сжала руки под тёмной вуалью...
"Отчего ты сегодня бледна?"
- Оттого, что я терпкой печалью
Напоила его допьяна.
Как забуду? Он вышел, шатаясь,
Искривился мучительно рот...
Я сбежала, перил не касаясь,
Я бежала за ним до ворот.
Задыхаясь, я крикнула: "Шутка
Всё, что было. Уйдешь, я умру."
Улыбнулся спокойно и жутко
И сказал мне: "Не стой на ветру".
---
см. также
перевод
Беляева Дина
Anna Akhmatova
* * *
Clenched my hands underneath a dark veil
“Why do you look so pallid tonight?”
For I filled him with acrid travail
That induced inebriety blight.
How forget it? He exited swaying,
His mouth warped as from torturous ache…
I ran down not touching the rails
And ran after him up to the gates.
Catching breath I called out: “It was whimsy
From the start. If you leave I will die.”
Smiled he, looking placid and dismal
“Do not stand in the wind.” He replied.
1911