English poetry

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A flame is in my blood

A flame is in my blood
Burning dry life, to the bone.
I do not sing of stone,
Now, I sing of wood.

It is light and coarse:
Made of a single spar,
The oak’s deep heart,
And the fisherman’s oar.

Drive them deep, the piles:
Hammer them in tight,
Around wooden Paradise,
Where everything is light.

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Poem A flame is in my blood - Osip Mandelstam