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текст песни (слова) "Four Wilbur Songs To the Etruscan Poets"
To the Etruscan Poets Dream fluently, still brothers, who when young Took with your mother's milk the mother tongue, In which pure matrix, joining world and mind, You strove to leave some line of verse behind Like still fresh tracks across a field of snow, Not reckoning that all could melt and go. Richard Wilbur