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poetry poem

when a deed is done for freedom
with joy and wonder
have you heard
there was a strangeness on your lips
quietly, with reverance, in awe
and as we walked the grass was faintly stirred
since i have felt the sense of death
see the tentative
night is dark, and the winter winds
where shall i find you
have you seen walking through the village
dark-eyed

 



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