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Часть текста: City vanished, the last house's window Stared like one living and stark... This place is totally unfamiliar, Smells of burning, and field is dark. But when the curtain of thunder Moon had cut, indecisive and wan, We could see: On the hill, to the forest, Hobbled a handicapped man. It was frightening, that he's overcoming The three horses, sated and glad, He stood up and then again waddled Under his heavy load. We had almost failed to notice him Before the nomad-tent taking his place. Just like stars the blue eyes were shining, Lighting the tormented face. And I proffered to him the child, Raising arms with the trace of a chain He pronounced with joy and with ringing: "May your son live and healthy remain."
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