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haiku poem

you are beautiful and faded
often is it not so?
somewhere i read a strange, old, rusty tale
which keeps
how wild, how witch-like weird that life should be
do not turn your head
it is true that you say the gods are more use to you than fairies
a gleam of gold in gloom and gray
over the rooftops race the shadows of clouds
all my love for my sweet
let me move slowly through the street

 



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