Mashed mat under the icon…

Mashed mat under the icon,
In the cool dark room,
And thick dark green ivy
Curled wide window.

From roses smell sweet flowing,
cracking little lamp, little grief.
Brightly painted packing
Hand love craftsman.

And the window whiten hoop…
Your profile is thin and tough.
You zatselovali fingers
Fastidiously hide under scarf.

A heart was afraid to fight,
Such it is now yearning…
And spits tangled lies
Barely audible smell of tobacco.


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Anna Akhmatova
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