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best friend poem

a few more windy days
the endless, foolish merriment of stars
i am weary of being bitter and weary of being wise
high-born race
since, if you stood by my side today
there is an hour of peaceful rest
i am dying
eighty years have passed, and more
take my bracelets
he came and took me by the hand
you are my companion
softly weeping
never in all my life

 



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