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life poetry

as a naked man i go
the endless, foolish merriment of stars
i am old and blind
listen
had he and i but met
the old songs
they may talk of love in a cottage
i see all human wits
i am weary of being bitter and weary of being wise
the air is full of dawn and spring
over the rooftops race the shadows of clouds
as i lie roofed in, screened in
still thirteen years

 



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