I've just returned from the deck. It's a beautiful summer day, waves have calmed down, there are a cloudless sky and an almost full moon. I've been thinking about you, about Helsingfors, about the Black Sea, where I walked on the deck just like now, about the Gulf of Riga, about meeting you in Helsingfors. Everything has changed, only your dear, gentle image has remained the same, just as important to me as before. See more
I can see it so clearly tonight, on this quiet moonlit night at the ocean. Can it be true that you used to be so close to me, walked with me for hours, I was near you and kissed your hands, and today I estimated the distance between us - about 3000 miles, but it's getting larger with every spin of the screw. It will be around 4500 in Washington in a straight line and about 5000 of an actual way. It's been a month since I've received your last letter.
This evening, after supper, I walked about the deck for a long time, thinking of our navy, of you, and of the dark, unknown future. The night is hazy. See more
From time to time there is rain, and from time to time a full moon glances out from behind the clouds, and then it becomes entirely bright, and the outlines of the Irish coast come into view. It is odd to be at sea without taking part in a campaign, the signaling and the maneuvering, but what can one do. Sweet Anna Vasilievna, what are you doing this evening? You are most likely still in the countryside, and autumn is beginning where you are, too—it is possible that the weather is exactly as it is here. How badly I want to be able to see you sometimes. I can only remember the past, those days when I did see you, and dream about those that “someday, perhaps” may come to be.
Forgive me for the courage with which I decided to send you a few things that one can no longer find in Russia and which, perhaps, will be useful to you. I know that you will be angry with me, but forgive me with you kindness and grace for giving me the pleasure of thinking about you, about your lovely hands that gave me so much happiness. See more
I can not vouch only for time, since the mail does not exist nowadays. I would have asked you to provide me with the required numbers and measurements, since I only have one of your gloves, the number of which I was guided by. I think that you will not condemn me, since it is now impossible to get the most necessary things in Russia, and maybe I could be happy to serve you. I will point out things like shoes, linen, fabrics, etc. I apologise for the packaging - we have to send things to the embassy in a hurry with a valise, and I do not have anything around me except for a leather box, and I’m afraid that you will get some mixture, which for, just in case, I do not want to condemn my ability to pack parcels.
It is my third day in London. I wait in constant expectation of my departure for America. My impressions after leaving Russia and especially in England and London have been very unhappy. You experience something like shame when you see order and convenience of the sort that has lost all representation in your homeland. See more
And London is even in the range of aerial attacks, which turn out to be much more serious than the press makes them out to be. The Germans are striving to attack City, the central banking and commercial region, and have managed to cause some damage there.
In the 11 months of my command, I completed my primary task—I achieved complete control over the sea and even eliminated the activities of enemy submarines. But I no longer wish to think about the fleet. Only about you, Anna Vasilievna, my deity, my happiness, my infinitely dear and loved one, I want to think about you as I did in every minute of my command. See more
I do not know what will be in an hour, but while I still live, I will be thinking about my star, about my beam of light and warmth—about you, Anna Vasilievna. How I would long to see you again, to kiss your dear hands.
Dearest Anna Vasilyevna, I have left Petrograd with absolute certainty that disaster for the state is inevitable, and with the recognition that the military-political objectives which determined the entire meaning and content of my work were a failure. I’m at sea again; it’s been two days already, and, as before, I’m sitting down to write to you, but what I have written seems redundant. But I can’t think of anything else to say. It’s all the same, basically. See more
I’m tired, and I’m finding it hard to write. I can’t think of a thing that I want to tell you, nor do I have the capacity to say anything to you. I’d better go and walk around on the deck and try not think about anything. Please forgive this letter.