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As by the dead we love to sit,
Become so wondrous dear—
As for the lost we grapple
Tho' all the rest are here—
In broken mathematics
We estimate our prize
Vast—in its fading ration
To our penurious eyes!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Love her choice of words. Always a delight.