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brother poem

sleep, gray brother of death
i think it just splendid
to clothe the fiery thought
my son is dead and i am going blind
with joy and wonder
the darkness
to be able to see every side of every question
perhaps it is no matter that you died
beautiful, tragical faces
do you remember
friend, whose smile has come to be
the mountains they are silent folk
brother, i am fire
lived by the river-side

 



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