The Jay his Castanet has struck by Emily Dickinson
звонцы для вьюг примеришь,-
нашейный мех, где звука нет,
в естественность неверящ...
Звон погребален в тёмных днях,
каштанов лотос почки,
сверчок роняет траур строк,
и от твоих - ни строчки...
(Поздняя осень.)
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The Jay his Castanet has struck by Emily Dickinson
The Jay his Castanet has struck
Put on your Bells for Winter
The Tippet that resists his voice
is infidel to nature
Of Swarthy Days he is the knell
His Lotus is a chestnut
The Cricket drops a sable line
No more from your's at present
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