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broken heart poem

i have heard them in the night
there were three in the meadow by the brook
when the hours of day are numbered
are you awake?
this ancient silver bowl of mine
sweet splendor
storm
sleep sweetly in your humble graves
simplicity
a blue-black nubian plucking oranges
soft as the bed in the earth
over the river they beckon to me
do you hear the rain?
star-dust and vaporous light

 



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