THE ANTIWORLDS (Andrei Voznesensky Poems)
There is Bukashkin, our neighbor, in underpants of blotting paper, and, like balloons, the Antiworlds hang up above him in ...
There is Bukashkin, our neighbor, in underpants of blotting paper, and, like balloons, the Antiworlds hang up above him in ...
I started up the engine and I lingered. Where should I go? The night was fine, I figured. The bonnet ...
My doc announced yesterday : "You may have talent, though it's hidden, your beak, however, is frost-bitten, so stick at ...
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