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I. Gordin

All this was, It was.
All this we have scorched.
All this pouring, there were,
vzdergivalo i Motala,
and consuming power,
and dragged into the grave,
and pulls on pedestals,
and then overthrew,
and then - has forgotten,
and then caused
in search of different truths,
so completely lost
in liquid bushes ambition,
wild dirt prostration,
associations, concepts
and - just among emotions.

But we have learned to fight
and learned to bask
hiding from the sun
and get to land
without lotsmanov, without sailing directions,
but - most importantly - not to be repeated.
We like consistency.
We like the fat folds
on the neck of our mothers,
and - our apartment,
which is too small
for the temple inhabitants.

We like to blossom.
We like the ear.
We like the rustle of calico
and the roar of the prominence,
and, generally, our planet,
like a rookie,
sweating on the march.

3 December 1958

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