| Earth inclines away from the sun
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| As the cold season is improving
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| At my viewpoint, a palace of eccentricity
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| Where the whole scenerey is moving
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| Nature’s monuments in a transpolar drift
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| (Casting dark blue shadows that we fear)
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| The coastline ends up in this delta’s rift
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| (A dynamism ignited by the obliquity of spheres)
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| Standing still, still travelling through an area of ice
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| By a slowly rotating current that leads the stream clockwise
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| An omnificent hall of brutal adventures
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| Ejecting islands from a polar den
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| Formation — growth — deformation — disintegration
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| At the annual snowline, again and again
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| I’m sailing on crystal sheets
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| Where explorers met tremendous drama
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| The scenery’s harshness can’t deplete
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| Imagination’s cyclorama
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| I’m on the move, or is it the world?
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| Nature stages a shifting play
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| By uniquitous events my view is purled
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| And lionized by ablation’s pray
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| Standing still, still travelling through an area of ice
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| By a slowly rotating current that leads the stream clockwise |