Dear - Akhmatova

Pigeon to me do not send,
Restless do not write letters,
March wind in the face not wei.
I went yesterday to the green paradise,
Where peace for body and soul
Under Satra tenistyh topolej.

And here I see the town,
Booths at the palace and barracks,
Over ice Chinese yellow Axle.
The third hour of me are you waiting for - chilled,
And you can not get away from the porch
And marvel, how many new stars.

Gray squirrel jump on alder,
Swallow fearful escape,
Quinoa you I will call,
So it was not terrible groom
The blue swirling snow
Dead bride waiting.

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Alexander Blok
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