Not secret and not sadness - Akhmatova

Not secret and not sorrow,
Not wise will of fate -
These meetings always left
impression fight.

I, morning guessing Minute,
When you see me you will enter,
He felt in his hands folded
Mild stinging shiver.

And dry fingers crumpling
Patchwork tablecloth table ...
Already then I knew,
As the land is small.

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