'Memory of sun ebbs from the heart.'

by Anna Akhmatova

　　Grass fades early.

　　Wind blows the first snowflakes

　　Barely, barely.

　　Freezing water can't flow

　　Along these narrow channels.

　　Nothing happens here, oh

　　Nothing can happen.

　　A willow against the sky

　　Spreads its transparent fan.

　　Better perhaps, if I

　　Hadn't accepted your hand.

　　Memory of sunlight ebbs from the heart.

　　What's this? Darkness?

　　Perhaps! ...In the night

　　Winter has overcome us.