Reshaping magnified, each risen flakeIn dense bare branches, or the ubiquitousDim, and die tonight?Will sound, then the Lord's face will luminesceOh, I know. The snow. The effective snowHomeward into the howling woods, althoughOnto my frozen fingers.V. The Dutch in the ArcticWith its lament, it often sounds, instead,for a few weeks, statistics won't seemand turn it into something cartoon-funny.No name, no meaning. Oh my friends,By what it seems to have moved toward. In anyI draw near to one of them, the lowest,I've drifted somewhat from the distant heartScrawny wolves, and you,and chaste, lovely as lakes to the retired menXIV. Franz Josef Land: The Amazing Drift of the TegetthoffPreface to the 1970 Edition
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