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SUMMER
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A red butterfly
is flying in the silken air
and - poppy after poppy - lights the poppies.
When the field is all aflame
It's frightened; and it flies
and hides in the sun's dark heart.
© Stephan Gechev
© Don Wilson, translated
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© E-magazine LiterNet, 23.06.2001, № 6 (19)
Other publications:
Hush, you Nightingales, Canton, Connecticut, 1993.
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