much remains, probably, wants…

much remains, probably, wants
My voice to be sung:
the, what, wordless, rumbles,
Or in the dark underground wears away the stone,
Or makes its way through the smoke.
I have not found out scores
With flames, and wind, and water ...
That is why I my slumber
Suddenly, the gates are wide open
And lead the morning star.
March 1942

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Anna Akhmatova
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