by Anna Akhmatova
Somehow we pulled off becoming apart,
Snuffed out our awful hot light.
Perennial enemy, it’s time you were taught
how someone can love someone right.
I’m willing. To me it’s all fun, I’m game:
At night, the easeful Muse careers
Down to me here, and in the morning Fame
Trudges in, rattles on in my ears.
Don’t bother to keep me in prayers or mind
Or turn to look at me when leaving.
I’ll be lulled by the black wind,
Gladdened by the golden trees’ unleaving.
I’m taking our parting as a present,
Give thanks for the memories lost.
But tell me: should any more people be sent,
In your eyes, on this Way of the Cross?
