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The Sentence

 And the stone word fell
On my still-living breast.
Never mind, I was ready.
I will manage somehow.
Today I have so much to do: I must kill memory once and for all, I must turn my soul to stone, I must learn to live again-- Unless .
.
.
Summer's ardent rustling Is like a festival outside my window.
For a long time I've foreseen this Brilliant day, deserted house.

by Anna Akhmatova
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