The evening sky is gold and vast.I’m soothed by April’s cool caress.You’re late. Too many years have passed, -I’m glad to see you, nonetheless.Come closer, sit here by my side,Be gentle with me, treat me kind:This old blue notebook – look inside –I wrote these poems as a child.Forgive me that I felt forsaken,That grief and angst was all I knew.Forgive me that I kept mistakingToo many other men for you.
-Anna Akhmatova
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