My mother (8 Martha 1901)

The more painful soul rebel,
The clearer worlds.
God cerulean, clean, gentle
He sends his gifts.

Sends adversity and sorrow,
tenderness enveloped.
But through them in certain given
penetrates glance.

And the sick soul rebel,
But clearer worlds.
It is God cerulean, gentle,
He sends his gifts.

8 Martha 1901

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Alexander Blok
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