Dark
my veil. Hands clenched painfully, tightly. "Why so white-faced?""To think, just to think! It was I made him to drink; of the biting Wine of sorrow I forced him to drink.
"How forget? Out he staggered with failing Strength, and face oddly twisted and grim. I ran down without touching the handrail, To the gateway I ran aftre him.
"'Please don't go!' I gasped out. 'I was only Jesting... Please!.. Or I'll die...' With a blind, With a terrible smile, almost tonelessly, He brought out 'Do not stand in the wind'"
1911. By Anna Akhmatova. Translated by Irina Zheleznova.