Mistaken

Akhmatova "Сжала руки под темной вуалью", interpretaion

12.05 2012

There lay a shadow on my face in fraction,
The twiglight shimmered evening decadence.
Anticipated negative reaction
My bitter wine and words’ severe dance.

He stopped collapsing, then escaped in fever
To heal his wounds of a sanctuary love-bite.
The conversation’s over in the evening
I chased him up and travelled in the night.

“I say! I say! I’m joking! It’s all nuisance!
Go now, you guess, I will be dead indeed!”
He gave a smile, ambiguously useless:
“Don’t be so silly, don’t frivol in the wind”.