I see capital through the flurryOn this Monday night twenty-first.Some do-nothing has made up the storyThat love exists on the earth.And from laziness or from boredomAll believed, and thus they live:Wait for meeting, fear the parting,And sing songs of love.But to others opens a secretAnd upon them descends a still.I by accident came upon thisAnd since then am as if I'm ill.
-Anna Akhmatova
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