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Часть текста: Upon the swan pond maple leaves Are gathered already, you see, And bloodied are the branches dark Of slowly blooming quicken-tree. Blindingly elegant is she, Crossing her legs that don't feel cold Upon the northern stone sits she And calmly looks upon the road. I felt the gloomy, dusky fear Before this woman of delight As on her shoulders played alone The rays of miserable light. And how could I forgive her yet Your shining praise by love deluded Look, she is happily in sorrow, And in such elegance denuded.
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