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To a Famous Russian Dancer
Look! Look! She ran out like a swallow
Over the waxed slippery theatre lake
And hold her foot up in the dim air,
Sure that she won't stain the sky with her footprint,
Stooping as she were about to gather dew
Or wipe off flowers' tears with her heart.
More sweetly and flowingly only waves roll,
Only opal beads of a rosary fall down,
Gravitating towards the centre of Love
Whose name is Christ and will meet every one of them.
And yet bards do not extol You!... You who took
A steel deeper look into the depths -
But I, Poland's son, throw my wreath
To your Russian-woman's feet
And I send you a tear which truely shines,
For it will never reach you, and you'll never know about it.
Cyprian Kamil Norwid