in winter

Sing again behind walls
complaints bells…
Several streets between us,
Few words!
City in the mist of sleep,
Sickle silver came,
Stars snow showers
your collar.
Do wound past the call of?
How long will hurt wound?
Teasing tempting-new,
sparkling eyes.

heart it (Brown il blue?)
Wise important pages!
White makes the frost
arrows eyelashes…
Silent without force behind the walls
complaints bells.
Several streets between us,
Few words!
Month leans clean
The soul of poets and books,
Spilling on fluffy snow
your collar.

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Marina Tsvetaeva
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