.
.
My voice is feeble, my will strong
I am better without love,
The clouds are high,
                        The wind blows from the mountain
And my thoughts are innocent.

My sleeplessness has gone away,
I do not sit over ashes,
The oblique hand of the clock tower
Is not a fatal arrow

And the past loses its force!
Freedom is near.
                    I watch
A strip of sunlight
                   Catch the wet new ivy
And I forgive... everything.

- Anna Akhmatova
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