... I'll be here ... finally!
With Dolce anonymous for the gift of this poem ...
was she, snow
And one morning upon rising, full of sleep, still unaware
,
suddenly opened the door, walked the
wonder:
rested, clean and high in
all its tender simplicity. It was tentatively
festive
was thick Sure of herself. He lay on the ground
rooftops and
surprised everyone with his whiteness.
Yevgeny Evtušenko
.
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