The inscription on the album

Let me only verse in your album,
only poyushtiy, like spring;
(You became to me the best of the books,
A lot of them in an old house!)
Let me just stalk, in bright moment
You, pitying, not crushed;
(You're a rich flower garden for me,
fragrant flower garden!)
Even so. But in poluistome
You're hung over Page…
You will remember everything… You'll keep screaming…
– Let me only verse in your album!

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Marina Tsvetaeva
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