Over river

In a snowy dance,
in a white dream,
in the notorious November,
the swept birches,
dance, as if in a cabaret.

The branches, as if in an arabesque,
spread out, beautiful,
in a snow-white robe,
from the sorceress of winter.

They, like ballerinas,
stood in a complex square,
like swans on takeoff,
in the bustle of migration.
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