From: ibshambat@gmail.com   
      
   In intimacy there exists a line   
   That can't be crossed by passion or love's art -   
   In awful silence lips melt into one   
   And out of love to pieces bursts the heart.   
      
   And friendship here is impotent, and years   
   Of happiness sublime in fire aglow,   
   When soul is free and does not hear   
   The dulling of sweet passion, long and slow.   
      
   Those who are striving toward it are in fever,   
   But those that reach it struck with woe that lingers.   
   Now you have finally fathomed, why forever   
   Her heart does not beat underneath your fingers.   
      
   By Anna Akhmatova   
   Translated from Russian by Ilya Shambat   
      
   --- SoupGate-Win32 v1.05   
    * Origin: you cannot sedate... all the things you hate (1:229/2)