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sister poem

there is a city, builded by no hand
your body's motion is like music
shades of night were falling fast
softly weeping
the snow whispers about me
the poets tell
a flying word from here and there
in your flight
now while my lips are living
moonlight deep and tender
my sorrow, when she's here with me
how wild, how witch-like weird that life should be
at midnight

 



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