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Friday, December 10th, 2004 01:16 am
APRIL
is the cruellest month, breeding
Lilacs out of the dead land,
mixing
Memory and desire,
stirring
Dull roots with spring rain.
Winter
kept us warm, covering
Earth in forgetful snow,
feeding
A little life with dried tubers.
Summer surprised us,
coming over the Starnbergersee
With a shower of rain;
we stopped in the colonnade,
And went on in sunlight,
into the Hofgarten,
And drank coffee, and talked for an hour.
Bin gar keine Russin,
stamm' aus Litauen, echt deutsch.
And when we were children,
staying at the archduke's,
My cousin's,
he took me out on a sled,
And I was frightened.
He said, Marie,
Marie, hold on tight.
And down we went.
In the mountains,
there you feel free.
I read, much of the night,
and go south in the winter.

(это я Cats посмотрела, если кто не догадался)
Tags:
Wednesday, April 20th, 2005 11:20 pm (UTC)
ага, одна культурная программа.