Ангел, три года... - перевод А. Ахматовой

An angel, who kept me that three years for,
Raised up in ascension in fire.
But I wait for sweet day, when he once returns,
I wait for this day in desire.

My cheeks looks like sunken and bloodless are lips -
You shan't recognize me this day.
Because I'm not beauty, as he knew in real,
When I made confused him some way.

I'm not afraid now of any thing bad,
Remembering words of good-bye.
I'll bow at his feet, when he comes once again,
Though I hardly beckoned in past.