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February(二月)
Oh February, to get ink and weep!
And write about it mourning,
While the uprising, raging sleet,
Like in the spring, is burning.
Go rent a buggy. For six grivnas,
Ride through the blare of bells and wheels,
To where the shower often drizzles
Much louder than ink and tears.
Where, like the charcoal pears, the crows
From trees, by thousands, will rise,
Crash into puddles, and then toss
Dry sadness deep into your eyes.
Below, thawed patches glisten through,
With loud cries, the wind is grubbed.
The more haphazard the more true--
The poems are composed and sobbed. |
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