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love poem

still thirteen years
over the river, on the hill
there is no flock, however watched and tended
this is the arsenal
i see all human wits
the child who threw away leaf after leaf
for truth, for love
do not turn your head
among the mountains i wandered
it is true that you say the gods are more use to you than fairies
in may
babylon-where i go dreaming

 



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