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The mysterious spring still lay under a spell...
The mysterious spring still lay under a spell, the transparent wind stalked over the mountains, and the deep lake kept being blue,-- a temple of the Baptist not made by hands. You were frightened by our first meeting, but I already prayed for the second, and now the evening is hot, the way it was then... How close the sun has come to the mountain. You are not with me, but this is no separation: to me each instant is--triumphant news. I know there is such anguish in you that you cannot say a single word.
by Anna Akhmatova |