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.

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