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A Dying Tiger — moaned for Drink —
I hunted all the Sand —
I caught the Dripping of a Rock
And bore it in my Hand —
His Mighty Balls — in death were thick —
But searching — I could see
A Vision on the Retina
Of Water — and of me —
'Twas not my blame — who sped too slow —
'Twas not his blame — who died
While I was reaching him —
But 'twas — the fact that He was dead —
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От жажда тигър бе примрял —
скала сред пясъка съзрях —
оскъдни капчици вода
от нея в шепа му събрах.
В изцъклените му очи,
открили вечния покой,
два образа аз разпознах:
на шепата вода — и мой.
Невинна бях, че закъснях
днес под пустинното небе —
той бе невинен, че умря —
но, факт, че мъртъв бе.
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