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Classic and Contemporary Poetry


FUNERAL MASS: REQUIEM by BORIS NIKOLAYEVICH BUGAYEV

First Line: YOU SIT ON THE BED THERE
Last Line: "AS WITH VESTMENTS OF SILVER?"
Subject(s): DEATH; FUNERALS; DEAD, THE; BURIALS;

"You sit on the bed there
In the sunset's full crimson,
Pillows crumpled,
Looking distracted,—what
Troubles you?"

"Oh, swept by
Transparent
Gold cataracts,
The fir-tree tops
Loom athwart the sky's blue."

"Orphaned, alone, I shall
Languish,
Through summery
Twilights and Winter nights.
There are new flights, but
Try them I dare not.
Oh, do not die!"

"Oh, above the pines
I float off into æther seas.
Who, there, what, there,
Swathes the sky with whitenesses,
As with vestments of silver?"



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