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Sunday, July 10, 2022

'I asked the cuckoo' by Anna Akhmatova

 I asked the cuckoo:

How many years will I live? …
The tips of the pine-trees quivered,
A yellow ray shone on the grass.
Yet no sound in the cool grove…
Now I am going home,
And a refreshing breeze
Kisses my burning brow.

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