I don't know if you're alive or dead.Can you on earth be sought,or only when the sunsets fadebe mourned secretly in my thought?All is for you: the daily prayer,the sleepless heat at night,and of my verses, the whiteflock, and of my eyes, the blue fire.No-one was more cherished, no-one tortured me more, noteven the one who betrayed me to torture,not even the one who caressed me and forgot.
-Anna Akhmatova
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