Lyudmila Purgina (Russian Federation)

By Anna Akhmatova

I remember you so rarely...
Your fate doesn't mean something to me.
But a small snatch of feel hardly could I take
From my soul, when we are to meet...

I shall pass by your red house, as with aim,
It is situated above the muddy stream...
I'm aware, that I am in anxiety,
While you are existing in peace.

Though you fail to bend over my lips,
Kissing me, asking love with a verse;
Though you didn't throw to eternity
All the inner temptation, lanquor -

I would like to conjure on my poor fate -
In the view of this blue and nice evening...
And I long, forebode of the next day,
When again there will be our meeting...