And to you, my first vagary,
Isaid goodbye. The east was turning blue,
Though I didn't know what you meant,
You said, simply: 'I'll not forget.'
Other faces appear and vanish,
Dear today, and tomorrow, done.
Why is at this page alone,
The corner is turned down?
Forever the book opens
To the very same place, strange:
It's as if the years have not passed,
From the moment of farewell.
Oh, who said that the heart is stone?
I know: it is made of fireā¦
I'll never understand: were you close
To me, or simply loved me?
Return to the Anna Akhmatova library , or . . . Read the next poem; 'I'm not one of those who left their land'