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grandmother poem

woman much missed, how you call to me, call to me
now while my lips are living
happiness
which keeps
better than granite
i have heard that a certain princess
the saddest of the year
the hypocritic days
pharaoh, king of egypt's land
the ancient songs
fat black bucks in a wine-barrel room
i cannot always feel his greatness
have you heard
that year

 



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