I wonít beg for your love: itís laid

Safely to rest, let the earth settle Ö

Donít expect my jealous letters

Pouring in to plague your bride.

But let me, nevertheless, advise you:

Give her my poems to read in bed,

Give her my portraits to keep Ė itís wise to

Be kind like that when newly-wed.

For itís more needful to such geese

To know that they have won completely

Than to have converse light and sweet or

Honeymoons of remembered bliss Ö

When you have spent your kopecks worth

Of happiness with your new friend,

And like a taste that sates the mouth

Your soul has recognised the end Ė

Donít come crawling like a whelp

Into my bed of loneliness.

I donít know you. Nor could I help.

Iím not yet cured of happiness.

 

 

Anna Akhmatova††††††††

(from Rosary 1914)††††††