(Author: Hilda doolittle)
Hilda doolittle is one of the greatest American poetesses in the 20th century.
Silver dust and fog
Rise from the ground
I can't reach it.
You have risen so high.
Oh, silver
I can't reach it.
You bloom to us.
There are no other flowers to bloom.
Such strong pure white petals
No other flower can get such rare silver.
And then separate out the silver.
Oh, white pears
You flower clusters
Bloom in the branches
Use your purple heart medal
Bring summer and ripe fruit.
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The flame at seven o'clock
Life at seven o'clock didn't exist then.
You can't hear the wind without warning.
Coins and coupons are opened.
The field of vision is full of burning air.
At seven o'clock, the flame gives me distance.
I stood up from the gray.
Silence is illuminated by flames.
The drums sounded.
Long memories are burning.
Forget the shells covered with water vapor.
Think of them as delicate bamboo leaves.
Red and white are like your skirt tonight.
The arrival of this accident
Like a bottle of medicinal liquor, it makes me doubt.
Gezi is too long and too quiet.
Then it will disappear (I think it will)
At seven o'clock, I walked into the light in a daze.
Happy Agatha is like a flame.
Flowering through the baffle.
I saw the truth after I lost my sight.
I looked down at the darkness of the years.
nearby
Before it was born, it was made of apples.
Looking up for a long time in the song
The flame at seven o'clock
Life at seven o'clock didn't exist then.
You can't hear the wind without warning.
Coins and coupons are opened.
The field of vision is full of burning air.
At seven o'clock, the flame gives me distance.
I stood up from the gray.
Silence is illuminated by flames.
The drums sounded.
Long memories are burning.
Forget the shells covered with water vapor.
Think of them as delicate bamboo leaves.
Red and white are like your skirt tonight.
The arrival of this accident
Like a bottle of medicinal liquor, it makes me doubt.
Gezi is too long and too quiet.
Then it will disappear (I think it will)
At seven o'clock, I walked into the light in a daze.
Happy Agatha is like a flame.
Flowering through the baffle.
I saw the truth after I lost my sight.
I looked down at the darkness of the years.
nearby
Before it was born, it was made of apples.
Looking up for a long time in the song