All winter we cried, poor…


All winter we cried, poor.
Vesna opened doors.
We left - sad, pale,
Heart - pain and loss.

And we went to meet longing,
Full of foreboding dissonant.
And there was a whiff of us
Spring jets restless.

In a burst of volatile wind -
Dream il remembrance
Something vague, something burning:
Not this breath of spring.

February 1902

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Alexander Blok
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