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autumn poetry

in the cloud-gray mornings
along a river-side
up to her chamber window
when the hours of day are numbered
storm
as a naked man i go
mysterious night
world that changes under my hand
sun stepped down from his golden throne
there is a country full of wine
my son is dead and i am going blind
do not turn your head
a little peach in the orchard grew
do the boys and girls still go

 



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