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Nor was there the entire sublunary
The snow-white shoulders,
gentle voice, voice polychord,
smarmy, laughing speech.

All singers midnight chants
she compose, her.
Whispered envious virgins
Her silent doors.

The Dark Knight, not raising his visor,
Eagerly spoiling for a fight:
She sent him to his death
The snow-white hand.

But, when one, cold tower
All she looks
of fields, the woods, Lake, arable land
From a high window.

And the tears shining in gentle eyes,
And in the distance, away
There are clouds, aleyut to dawn,
Yes flying cranes…

Moreover - the soul of its ruler,
the, who ever
I forgot the way to a distant monastery,
Will never return!

28 November 1908, 16 May 1914

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All poems of Alexander Blok

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