December's Tale - Tsvetaeva

We are too young, to forgive
So, who have dispelled the enchantment.
But, to about it, bygone, do not be sad,
We are too old!

There was a pink castle, as a winter dawn,
As the world - wide, like the wind - the ancient.
We were almost the daughter of the king,
nearly princess.

Father - the magician was, gray and angry;
we, get mad, his tie;
In the evenings, bending over ash,
we conjured;

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Vladimir Mayakovsky