Anna Akhmatova
Almost white was the house, Made of glass was the wing. How many times with numb arm Did I hold the doorbell's ring.
How many times.. play, soldiers, I'll make my house, I'll espy You from a roof that's inclined, From the ivy that does not die.
But who at last did remove it, Took away into foreign lands Or took out from the memory Forever the road thence..
Snow flies, like a cherry blossom, Distant bagpipes desist.. And, it seems like, nobody knows That the white house does not exist.
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