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Poetry translation(M. Tsvetayeva) (Lyric) by Olya
I’m simple in my manners, My shelter’s poor and plain, Because I ‘m one of dwellers From isles far away. I live – nobody’s needed! You’ve come –my nights turn white. To make hot meal and feed you I’ll burn my house out. You’ve glanced – so you are known, You‘ve come - with me reside. We follow simple laws: Were written they in blood. The moon will we ensnare In palm – if we do whim! You left – so you‘ve been never, And I have never been. I look at knife wound stretching: Will it have time to close, Before the first met stranger Begs me: I die of thirst.

Up the ladder: Upon a Wooden Cross
Down the ladder: Starting Over

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Arithmetic Mean: 2.5
Weighted score: 4.8814354
Overall Rank: 9947
Posted: January 20, 2005 9:27 AM PST; Last modified: January 20, 2005 9:27 AM PST
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Comments:
[5] Dovina @ 205.184.70.141 | 22-Jan-05/1:44 PM | Reply
Some very strange language this. Too many lines don't make sense.
141 view(s)




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