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Zion my innocent one, Zion my desired,
To thee my soul yearns from far away;
May I forget my right hand should I forget thee, my beauty,
Until my grave is sealed upon me . . .
May my tongue cleave…
[ . . . ] And the Lieutenant-Captain was seriously tired of other people’s passports, of never-ending family names, from Ivanov to Chavchavadze, and of registration.
The barrister has been…