больше не буду » from archive
During the first pogrom they // Met behind the ruins of their homes -- // Sweet merchants trading: her love // For a history-full of poems.
And in the furnace itself fondly // As the flames flamed higher, // He tried to kiss her burning breasts // As she burned in the fire. ‎· больше не буду
ап may'14 ‎· больше не буду