By Anna Akhmatova
And the stone word has fallen down
On my breast, being alive, awhile...
No matter, I was ready, almost...
I'll cope, overcome this time.
I'm today completly borrowed, rather,
It is need to kill the memory to end.
It is need for my soul - to harden,
It is need - again to live, as well.
Or... The hot rumble of near summer
Is outside my window as a feast...
I've fore-feeled this long ago: coming
Of this bright day and my house - left.
22.06.1939