You will hear thunder and remember me,
and think: she wanted storms.
the rim of the sky will be
the colour of hard crimson,
and your heart, as it was then,
will be on fire. That day in Moscow,
it will all come true,
when, for the last time, I take my leave,
and hasten to the heights
that I have longed for, leaving my shadow
still to be with you.
Anna Akhmatova
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