cast-iron fence…

cast-iron fence,
pine bed.
How sweet, that we should not
I'm more jealous.

My bed this trail
Sobbing and pleading;
Now walk in the light
Where you want. Бог с тобой!

Now, your ears will not hurt
violent speech,
Now, no one will
Candle burning until the morning.

We have peace
And undefiled days…
You're crying - I do not stand
One of your tears.

1921

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Anna Akhmatova
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