In The Evening - Poem by Anna Akhmatova

The garden rang with music Of inexpressible despair. A dish of oysters spread on ice Smelled like the ocean, fresh and sharp. He told me: ‘I’m a faithful friend!’- And lightly touched my dress. How different from embraces The touch of those two hands. That’s how one strokes a cat or bird Or looks at slender lady riders… Just laughter in his quiet eyes, Beneath his light…
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