another song

untold speech
I no longer keep telling,
But the memory of the non-meeting
Rosehip will plant.

How was shining and there was singing
The miracle of our meeting,
I did not want to go back
anywhere there.
Bitter was my delight
Happiness instead of debt,
I am talking with someone not necessary,
I speak at some length.
Let the passion of lovers suffocate,
demanding answers,
We are, nice, only the soul
At the limit of light.
1956

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Anna Akhmatova
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