Anna Akhmatova
Fragment

...In the gloom of the trees, hidden from view,
Someone rustled the leaves and begun:
“What has your lover done to you,
What has your lover done;

Your eyelids are heavy as if outlined
In the India Ink, dark and gruff.
In stifling torment, he left you behind
In the hands of the poisoner-love.

You no longer count the stabs of the needle —
And your breast cannot be revived,
It’s in vain that you try to always act gleeful —
You are better off buried alive!..”

I told the offender: “You’re cunning and shady,
A devil with no sense of shame.
He’s quiet, he’s gentle, and always obeys me,
And loves me, always the same!”

Translated by Andrey Kneller