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Sándor Weöres: Storm from the far heights (English)
When storms swoop down from the far heights
don’t you shun me, little brother–
when the moon stirs in the foliage
you protect me, little sister!
Our shack sits near the clearing
through the shrubs you’d never notice;
but the Angel, when alighting
eats her supper where our door is.
Donald E. Morse and Makkai, Adam
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