.Mróz tak siarczysty że palce zagina
Lecz tam gdzie studniÄ pod lodowce wbito
CiaÅami zmarÅych przetrawiona glina
CieczÄ
zdrój jasny syci jadowitÄ
Milczy szafarka i nad wiadrem czeka
Aż wiatr kolejnych tuÅaczy przygoni
Nie drgnie pod czapkÄ
jakuckÄ
powieka
Gdy bÄ.
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