Clenched my hands under veil for a moment.
‘You are looking incredibly pale.’
I have given him taste of rough torment,
Made him drunk as the Bacchus would fail.
Can’t forget: He just reeled over there,
Wried his mouth in a harrowing way.
I flew after him over the stairs
To the gate. I was ready to pray.
Out of breath I yelled out to him: ‘Skip it.
Don’t be cruel. If you leave, I will die.’
‘Stand away from the wind,’ he emitted
Rather coldly and gave me a smile.
26 августа 2009
Оригинал «Сжала руки под темной вуалью …» А.Ахматовой