Glazunoviana

 The man with the red hat
And the polar bear, is he here too? 
The window giving on shade, 
Is that here too? 
And all the little helps, 
My initials in the sky, 
The hay of an arctic summer night? 

The bear
Drops dead in sight of the window.

Lovely tribes have just moved to the north.

In the flickering evening the martins grow denser.

Rivers of wings surround us and vast tribulation.

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