The early chills are most pleasant to me.Torment releases me when I come there.Mysterious, dark places of habitation --Are storehouses of labor and prayer.The calm and confident lovingI can't surmount in this side of mine:A drop of Novgorod blood inside meIs like a piece of ice in foamy wine.And this can not in any way be corrected,She has not been melted by great heat,And what ever I began to glory --You, quiet one, shine before me yet.
-Anna Akhmatova
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