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religious poem

i shake my hair in the wind of morning
the ships are lying in the bay
give me
a blue-black nubian plucking oranges
my mother twines me roses wet with dew
you are my companion
there are three ways in which men take
over the rooftops race the shadows of clouds
days endeared to every muse
i am in love with high far-seeing places
thoughts through my head
glass-blower of time
in the cloud-gray mornings
happiness

 



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