* * *
I do not bore my verses,
There was everything, will not hide:
At times the coward by the feather has smoothed its,
The hero has minted its at times.
The enamoured its wrote loftily
And the liar scribbled, having filled by the lie,
But I dreamt about the lines written,
As speak, by the hand of the divine.
N.Grebneva's lane
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