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Bely, "Воспоминание"

A work ("Recollection") by this Russian man of letters.  You can read the original here.

December snowdrifts cloak our streets,
And you and your words I recall; 
Amidst the snowy silver's fall,  
Your shoulders shake like shameful sheets.

In whitest lace of prim Marseilles,
The doorman's gaze you did divert;
In sunken sofas like squatting birds, 
Admiring suitors marked your way. 

The butler brings us spice-strewn tea;
The piano wails in someone's arms;
But you just chanced to look at me,
In melancholy and alarm.  

And gently all of you arose,
As inspiration and day's dreams;
Against my yearnings all this seems
Ineffable, and sadness grows.  

Between us a pure bond was made  
To Haydn's sweetest melodies; 
But then your husband touched your knees,
As hallway drafts his whiskers grazed.

To my poor soul alone there howls,
As I this snowy scene reface, 
The recollection of those hours, 
And how they passed without a trace.

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