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life poetry

the rain was over, and the brilliant air
i loathed you
fat black bucks in a wine-barrel room
gone are the three, those sisters rare
who is the runner in the skies
all within and all without me
have you heard
now while my lips are living
earth travails
melancholy, blue it was
i burn no incense
let me be sad
where shall i find you

 



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