The Song of Our Farewell Meeting

by Anna Akhmatova

Numbing ice was gripping my chest
But my footsteps were airy and light.
My left-hand glove, with finesse,
I pulled onto my right.

The stairwell appeared never-ending
But I knew there were just three steps.
Amid maples the autumn's soft chanting
Pleaded: "Die with me! Do accept,

For I’ve been betrayed by my snide
Woeful fate – wicked, fickle, untrue.”
“Oh, my dear, my dear,” I replied
“As have I. I shall die with you.”

It’s the song of our farewell meeting.
I glanced at the house dark as night,
Except bedroom candles still flitting
Their indifferently yellow light.