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sad poem

i have to say good-night
the smell of the rose so false, the thorns so true
the arches of the red bridge
with her hair flaying wildly
birds against the april wind
there are gains for all our losses
glass-blower of time
braided and woven
give me hunger
the swan existing
there was a strangeness on your lips
sad are they who know not love
melancholy days have come
grieve not for the invisible

 



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