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child poem

beautiful
look back with longing eyes and know that i will follow
it tells of good old times
i saw you hunched and shivering on the stones
i have heard that a certain princess
in the dark and peace of my final bed
simplicity
there is a city, builded by no hand
in september
but alas, just dreams
a poet, having taken the bridle off his tongue
up from the south at break of day
the lightning flashed, and lifted

 



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