The celebrations
Of secret nonmeetings are empty,
Unspoken conversations,
Unuttered words.
Glances that don't intersect
Don't know where to come to rest.
And only the tears rejoice
Because they can flow and flow.
Sweetbrier around Moscow,
Alas! Somehow it is here ...
And all this they will call
Love eternal.

Auteur: Anna Akhmatova