At the very end of February, on the eve of my return to the dormitory, Anna and I went skating on the huge rink in Gorky Park. Both of us owned skates, hers were called snegurochki (snow maidens) and mine, dutyshi (Pectoral Sandpipers, Calidris melanotos, small northern birds which they were supposed to resemble). I can't call myself sporty, but I was definitely more so than my roommates. I liked walking a lot; at school in Riga I had made every effort to overcome my unwillingness to get up early by arranging to jog with friends in a local park before school. I couldn't ski but loved skating, which I'd learned while still in Tallinn, at eight or nine. I took second place in the university students’ speed skating competition.

Infrequent snow was falling, feather–light crystal shavings coming down indolently, now and then, from the black spaces above the skating rink's dazzling floodlights. Loud music was playing. We held hands as we skated. Her nearness and the smell of her hair intoxicated me, made everything swirl like transparent wind. I missed a turn, failed to maneuver, drove into somebody, and fell. I lay on the snow, heart pounding against my rib cage; she skated back to where I lay. “Come on, get up,” she helped me up. “I'm all right, I can get up on my own,” I protested. She laughed and we went on skating.

“You know, I've written you a poem,” I said. “Composed it, I mean.”

“What's the difference?”

“I've composed it in my mind but haven't written it down yet. I'll do that later,” I explained. At that stage, I always composed verses in my head, mostly musically, first hearing cadences, then a few words, and then gradually filling everything out. Committing the results to paper was the least of my concerns. Later I would come across Mandelstam's critical attitude to Pasternak's working process (“Now that you've got a flat you can write poetry,” Pasternak had said; he had been overjoyed to get a big writing desk and, again, had connected this with improved creativity) and realize my way of doing things was identical to Mandelstam's; it would take me many years to see merit in Pasternak's approach.