The mysterious spring still thrills... The mysterious spring still thrills, A transparent breeze wanders the hills, And the deep lake becomes bluer still-- The temple of the Baptist not built by human hands. You were frightened by our first meeting, But I was already praying for a second one. And again today the evening is sultry-- How low the sun hangs over the hill... You are not with me but there's no separation: For me each moment is a triumphant report. I know that you are in such torment, That you can't utter a word.. by Anna Akhmatova 1917 Petersburg Translated by Judith Hemschemeyer Return to Akhmatova Index Return to Russian Poets index