'Like a white stone in a well's depths,'

by Anna Akhmatova

　　A single memory remains to me,

　　That I can't, won't fight against:

　　It's happiness – and misery.

　　Ithink someone who gazed full

　　In my eyes, would see it straight.

　　They'd be sad, be thoughtful,

　　As if hearing a mournful tale.

　　I know the gods changed people

　　To things, yet left consciousness free.

　　To keep suffering's wonder alive,

　　In memory, you changed into me.