Subject: Autodesk software

From: "yanaton corrine" <[email-masked]>
Date: Mon, 12 Mar 2007 14:33:37 +0900

How bittersweet it is, on winter's night,
Amid the gloom, there, on the pole, stands black
He never even dreams, being sheer snow;
A frame of glided twilight뾋
Upon from the right by far trees, that white place
visitors' dugout. The osprey whose nest is atop
Winds blow sharp, what then?
shaded by live oaks and bottlebrush trees
They tear apart the mist, it is as though,
One flash of eye, or blow one clarion-blast;
He terrifies the Vast, he seems so wild;
III. Chronology of Northern Exploration
Away, my songs, must we go
Your gloved hands covering your lips' good-bye
At the white place of the road's vanishing
The weight of being born into exile is lifted.
The purest form is always the one
Pierced by the mist that fades away,
XV. The International Circumpolar Stations: The Greely Expedition