by Anna Akhmatova
May 1915
Tzarskoye Selo
There is the sacred border in the union -
Which passion or affection to each other
Could never step across, although junior
Unite the lips so fast in silence weird,
Though heart is broken to simple parts
By love, and friendship ruins attitude,
As well as years of the highest luck,
When Soul's free from passion lassitude...
All the aspired men - then mad,
Achieved - then turn to melancholy.
You see? Under your trembling hand
My heart is beating quite normally.
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In russian:
http: //www.stihi.ru/2010/07/30/1211
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem