Life for the truth.*

World weary sigh of confusion on,
Pink evening Stirs oblivion…
We are not separated people, a fair,
My boy, my heart!

towering walls, fog dressed,
Sun Damage exhausted spear…
In the world of the evening I am cold. Where are you,
My boy, my heart?

You will not hear. We pulled down the walls,
everything goes out, merges all…
Did not have, not and will not replace,
My boy, my heart!

Moscow, 27 August 1910

*To give his life for the truth (lat.).

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Marina Tsvetaeva
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