'I'll be there and weariness will vanish.'

by Anna Akhmatova

　　I'll be there and weariness will vanish.

　　The cold of early morning will please.

　　There are villages, mysterious and dark –

　　Storehouses of immortal labour.

　　My calm and trusting love

　　Of that place will never be vanquished.

　　There's a drop of Novgorod blood

　　In me – a sliver of ice in foaming wine.

　　And that can never be altered,

　　It's un-melted by great heat,

　　And no matter what I may praise –

　　You shine quietly before me.