I drink to home, that is lost,
To evil life of mine,
To loneness in which were both,
And to your future, fine, --
To lips by which I was betrayed,
To eyes that deathly cold,
To that that the world is bad and that
We were not saved by God.
I drink to home, that is lost,
To evil life of mine,
To loneness in which were both,
And to your future, fine, --
To lips by which I was betrayed,
To eyes that deathly cold,
To that that the world is bad and that
We were not saved by God.
© Anna Akhmatova