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Akhmatova, "Три раза пытать приходила"

A work ("Three times it came to torture me") by this Russian poet.  You can read the original here.

Three times it came to torture me,
And I with screams of woe awoke,
And then espied the slender hands 
Below the dark and mocking mouth.   

"Whom did you kiss as dayglow broke,
"And swore that separation ends,
"Your life, concealing ardent glee,
"While at black gates your sad sobs howled? 

"He whom you led to death, just he
"Will die, he soon will die," it growled.
The voice was like a falcon's shriek
But strangely like a voice she knew.

My body whole was twisted, choked,
The tremor of death's tread so grew;
Then fell the net, the cobweb bleak
Becoming now my daybed's flue.

In vain you neither laughed nor joked,
My unforgivable lie, you!

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