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the mountains they are silent folk
made up of loveliness alone
i fill this cup
i am dying
but i cannot read you now
have you seen walking through the village
do i like it
i walk down the garden paths
the endless, foolish merriment of stars
there is a city, builded by no hand
you say you love me
of sun nor stars
the snow whispers about me
i gazed upon the glorious sky

 



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