We meet there. We are in different camps…

We meet there. We are in different camps,
To call me Mademoiselle, naglets,
Where his brother slumped in a bloody wounds,
Priya angelic crown?

And no pleading smile,
Neither the wild oaths your,
No ghost mleyuschy and fragile
My happy love
Do not deceive…

1921

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Anna Akhmatova
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