Стих цветаевой тоска по родине
Oh, what a long-denunciated longing! It matters absolutely not where I would absolutely lonely be, passing by which street-name sign I'd roll back home my shopping barrows Ц A home, yet clueless it is mine, as if a hospital or barracks. It makes no difference, whose grins amid, to bristle like a captive beast, nor from which fraternal rings to be expelled Ц into effective self-insulation Ц where belong. I, an Alaskan floe-less bear, Ц where not to try to get along, where to abase myself Ц don't care! The mother-tongue, its luring pitch, too, to my hearing, risks no dangers. It couldn't matter less in which to be misunderstood by strangers book's readership, or gossip's ears, consumers of newspaper pages. They're in the nineteen-something years, and I'm yet in unnumbered ages! To me, impressionable like a log in a forgotten стих цветаевой тоска по родине, all means the same, all looks alike, and maybe most alike, and foremost the same Ц and sane Ц remains the past. All dates, all tags Стих цветаевой тоска по родине used to bear, стих цветаевой тоска по родине been stripped off of me at last: A mortal given birth Ц somewhere. So thoroughly my native soil abandoned me, that Ц Search the ground and far and wide across my soul! Ц a single birthmark won't be found! Each home feels void, each temple vain, all ties are burnt, all ashes buried.
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So thoroughly my native soil abandoned me, that Ц Search the ground and far and wide across my soul! В русской литературе с лёгкой руки гения А.