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8 or so bees in my bonnet

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1829? [Apr. 4th, 2005|09:36 pm]
8 or so bees in my bonnet
[music |fiona apple-get him back]


thank you flying_saucerer

WINTER MORNING.

A frost and the sun; day wonderful!
Still you doze, the friend charming
Is time, a beauty, wake up:
Open looks Towards to northern Aurora
are closed by luxury,
Star the north be!

Evening, you remember, the blizzard was angry,
In the muddy sky the haze rushed;
the Moon as a pale spot,
Through clouds gloomy turned yellow,
And you sad sat -
And now..... Have a look in a window:

Under blue heavens
Magnificent carpets,
Shining on the sun, a snow lays;
the Transparent wood one blackens,
And the fur-tree through hoarfrost turns green,
And the small river under an ice shines.

All room Is lit up by amber shine.
A cheerful crash
the flooded furnace Cracks.
It is pleasant to think at a stove bench.
But you know: whether to order in sled
Mare brown yoke?

Sliding on a morning snow,
the Friend the darling, we shall be betraid to run
of the Impatient horse
And we shall visit fields empty,
Woods, recently so dense,
And coast, lovely for me.

Pushkin 1829 (via online translator)
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