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sweet with fern and rose
musing, between the sunset and the dark
i have known the silence of the stars and of the sea
sleep sweetly in your humble graves
the air is like a butterfly
those black eyes i once so praised
i burn no incense
do not grieve that it is over
as a white candle
to what shall a woman liken her beloved
the shadows of the ships
a poet, having taken the bridle off his tongue

 



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