From: ibshambat@gmail.com   
      
   Upon the swan pond maple leaves   
   Are fully gathered already,   
   And bloodied are the branches dark   
   Of slowly blooming quicken-tree.   
      
   Blindingly elegant is she,   
   Crossing her legs that don't feel cold   
   Upon the northern stone sits she   
   And calmly looks upon the road.   
      
   I felt the gloomy, dusky fear   
   Before this woman of delight   
   As on her shoulders played alone   
   The rays of miserable light.   
      
   And how could I forgive her yet   
   Your shining praise by love deluded   
   Look, she is happily in rue,   
   And so well-dressedly denuded.   
      
   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)