'Hands clasped under the dark veil.'

by Anna Akhmatova

　　'Today, why are you so pale?'

　　– Because I've made him drink his fill

　　Of sorrow's bitter tale.

　　How could I forget? He staggered,

　　His mouth twisted with pain…

　　Iran down not touching the rail,

　　Iran all the way to the gate.

　　'I was joking,' I cried, breathlessly.

　　'If you go away, I am dead.'

　　Smiling strangely, calmly,

　　'Don't stand in the wind,' he said.