i wrung my hands

I wrung my hands under my dark veil...
"Why are you pale,what makes you reckless?"
—Because I have made my loved one drunk
with an astringent sadness.

I'll never forget.He went out,reeling;
his mouth was twisted,desolate...
I ran downstairs,not touching the banisters,
and followed him as far as the gate.

And shouted,choking: "I meant it all
in fun.Don't leave me,or I'll die of pain."
He smiled at me —oh so calmly,terribly—
and said:"Why don't you get out of the rain?"

Anna Akhmatova