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 Today, my love,
leaves are thrashing the wind
just as pedestrians are erecting again the buildings of this drab
forbidding city,
and our lives, as I lose track of them,
are the lives of others derailing in time and
getting things done.
Impossible to make sense of any one face or mouth, though each distance is clear, and you are miles from here.
Let your pure space crowd my heart, that we might stay awhile longer amid the flying debris.
This moment, I swear it, isn't going anywhere.

by Osip Mandelstam
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