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sad death poem

i love my life, but not too well
those black eyes i once so praised
fat black bucks in a wine-barrel room
she must go back, she said
my sorrow, when she's here with me
this is the arsenal
the light withdrawn
thoughts through my head
and my name is truthful
melancholy days have come
beneath my window in a city street
over the river they beckon to me
i shall see a star tonight
i am the wind that wavers

 



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