A. Ahmatova, "Hands pressed under a dark voile"
I shrugged my hands under a dark valley.
"Why are you pale today?"
Because I am so sad.
Drunk him drunk.

How will I forget? He walked out,
My mouth was painfully shaken.
I ran away, washing without touching.
I ran after him to the door.

I shouted and shouted: "A joke.
All that was. You go, I will die."
Smiled calmly and terribly.
And he said to me: "Do not stand on the wind"

by 1911