You imagined me. Such isn’t in the world,
Such in the world can’t be.
Neither the doctor cannot heal, nor the poet, -
The shadow of the ghost the day and night is worrying you.
We met in that incredible year,
When the forces of the world had also dried out.
Everything was in the crap, was wilting from the miseries,
And only graves were fresh.
Without light, like pitch was black the Neva's shaft,
Dark night like wall around was...
So when my voice was causing you!
What had I done - I did not understand then.
And you came to me, as if you were guided by a star,
On the tragic autumn treading,
In that forever desolated home,
From which the flock of burning poems whirled.
You imagined me, by A. Akhmatova
© Copyright: Юлия Кагеро, 2014
Свидетельство о публикации №114101309449
Свидетельство о публикации №114101309449
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