A.Akhmatova, And You Became So Dull… – Translation (Rus.)

And you became so dull and heavy,
Denying glory and debarring dreams,
But you are so nice for me, unswayably,
And being more dark, then more sweet.

You drink wine, and your nights are dirty,
What’s then in real or in dreams, not think,
But your eyes’re green and poignant, though, –
The rest is not in wine – your screed.

And your heart longs for coming death now,
Anathemising destiny for retardation.
The wind from west is bringing hourly
Your constant blames and supplications.

But how could return? I’m scared.
Under the pale heaven of my land
I’m able only to sing, remember…
You dare not to think ’bout me that day.

So days are going, making the groans louder.
How could I now pray God for your fate?
You’re right: my love is such tenacious,
That you failed all to kill it, anyway.

1916(?)