Like White Stone In the Deep of Well By Anna Akhmatova
Like white stone in the deep of well
a moment lies in me and I remember,
Ah, it is fun, it's suffering, I tell,
I cannot fight, I'm ready to surrender.
It seems to me there's someone who can stare
to see in eyes of mine that truth, I'm sorry,
He will be sadder, pensive and I share
with him my very mournful story.
I'm known the gods was very cruel
turning the people in the stuff with conscience
for endless grief, and you are turned in tool,
You're my remembrance frozen in emotions.
P.S. This is my translation of poem by Anna Akhmatova.
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