A.Akhmatova, Grasped My Hands... - Translation (Rus.) Poem by Lyudmila Purgina

by Anna Akhmatova

Grasped my hands under the veil dark 'n swarthy...
'Why today so pale are you? '
'That's from sorrow, the astringent sorrow,
Which I've fed to him fully, as truth.' 

How could I forget? He went staggering,
The twisted mouth and grimace on face...
I've run, trying not to touch rails,
I've followed him up to gates.

Gasped for breath, I've cried to him: 'Joke!
All was joke! I'll die, when you go...'
Smiled he, said so quiet with horror:
'Don't stay in the wind, it is cold! '