Anna Akhmatova
At the Pond

Slender shepherd boy,
you see, I’m losing my mind.
I remember you, your cloak and your staff—
to my cost. I don’t even have the strength
to stand. Far off I hear your flute
playing a tune I thought I knew.

It all seemed a dream when we parted,
when I said how I’d wait for you,
how I wanted to be with you.
“You’ll be with me in hell!” you laughed.
I can’t even stand up now. I fall.
I still hear your flute
and the tune I thought I knew.

Oh, the mill-pond water’s
deep enough to drown even grief;
for this humiliation
I’m pretty sure it’ll do.
That’s why I came, why without a cry
I’ll disappear here, while your flute, far away,
plays a tune I thought I knew.

Translated by Seraphina Powell