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short love poem

i gazed upon the glorious sky
my soul is a dark ploughed field
little park that i pass through
when you come tonight
there are three ways in which men take
and how could you dream of meeting
the darkness rolls upward
beneath the warrior's helm
we break the glass whose sacred wine
there by the window in the old house
backward, turn backward
uplifting, as the wind blew

 



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