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Elysium of shades this soul of mine, Shades silent, luminous, and wholly severed From this tempestuous age, these restless times, Their joys and griefs, their aims and their endeavours.
Speak, O my soul, Elysium of shades! What bonds have you with life? Speak, phantoms summoned From out a day whose very memory fades - What have you with this heartless mob in common?
Fyodor Ivanovich Tyutchev
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Read poems about / on: memory, life, joy
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Fyodor Ivanovich Tyutchev
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