" We never quite learned to part,
-We wander slowly side by side.
Outside it’s starting to get dark,
I’m silent, - you’re preoccupied.

We’ll enter a church and we’ll see
Baptisms, marriages, mass.
A minute later, we’ll leave…
Why is everything different with us?

Or we’ll sit on the trampled snow
In a dark cemetery and sigh,
With a stick in your hand, you’ll draw
A palace for just you and I. "

― Anna Akhmatova , White Flock