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death poem

royal feast was done
the ships are lying in the bay
in your flight
one by one, like leaves from a tree
it is true that you say the gods are more use to you than fairies
let us plant
brief on a flying night
i saw him once before
in the dark and peace of my final bed
stand here by my side
the old songs
with lips blood red and heart of stone
i love to steal awhile away
so fallen

 



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