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And you, my friends last call!
So you mourn, saved my life.
Over your memory is not styt weeping willow,
A shout to the whole world all of your names!
Why are there names! – slamming calendar;
And all knees! – purple light flooded,
Orderly rows held Leningrad,
Living with the dead. For God is not dead.
August 1942
Dyurmen

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