The last word


About whether sad, any fine,
Keep in mind an autumn garden!
Let it be your bright sunset,
You had no power over the dawn.

Such, like you, can not hurt:
harsh sound – tear thread!
Not for us to judge, do not blame us…
It is impossible for the secret to hate.

In a country of unfulfilled divination
you live alone, all away.
For the happiness of a miserable land
You do not give their suffering.

After all, our lives all the joy
By the last glass cling.
We do not know, where the right path,
And do not judge, and the need to cry.

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Marina Tsvetaeva
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