Anna Akhmatova
The evening light is yellow, wide.
The cool of April's tender, soft.
You seem to visit lately, but
I'm glad and pleased, despite of all.
Oh dear, nearer to me please sit
And look at me with joyous eyes.
The old note-book, all filled
With childish poems we'll glance.
And pardon me for old hard tears
And lack of pleasure in sunshine.
Excuse me, that instead of dear
I've been receiving other one.
1915
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In russian and some other translations:
http: //www.stihi.ru/2010/04/10/1449
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem