You have come to comfort me, sweet…

You have come to comfort me, sweet,
The most tender, the most humble…
From pillows to rise no power,
A part of the lattice windows.

dead, thought, you did find him,
And he brought the wreath inexpert.
As a smile heart hurt hurting,
gentle, mocking and sad.

Now I mortal languor!
If you're still with me pobudesh,
I beg forgiveness from God
You too, and all, someone you love.

May 1913
Petersburg

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Anna Akhmatova
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