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There is an utter mark...
There is an utter mark in the people's nearness, Which can't be crossed by love and passion,-- But in the striking silence lips become one And the heart is torn apart by love. And here friendship is helpless, And the mountain of high and flaming happiness, When the soul is free and estranged From the slow calm of sweet passion. In striving for it they become insane, And those attaining it are annihilated by grief... And now you understand why My heart doesn't beat under your hand.
by Anna Akhmatova |