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Rita
@ritanesterova.eth
A night, a street, a lamp, a drugstore, A meaningless and dismal light. A quarter century outpours — It’s all the same. No chance of flight. You’d die and rise anew, begotten. All would repeat as ever might: The street, the icy rippled water, The store, the lamp, the lonely night. Translated by Dina Belyayeva
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Sofi 🎩
@sofi888
👏🏻👏🏻
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Rita
@ritanesterova.eth
Ugh, the translation isn't mine, but this poem is seriously profound, in my opinion
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