'Now no one will listen to my songs.' by Anna Akhmatova

 Now no one will listen to my songs.

The prophesied days have come to pass.
Last poem of mine, earth has lost its magic.
Don't break my heart, don't resound.

Not long ago, free as a swallow,
You accomplished your morning flight.
Now you've become a starving beggar,
Don't go knocking at the stranger's door.