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thank you poem

he speaks not well
rocked in the cradle of the deep
to the passionate lover
by the shore, by the sea
this is the song of youth
in the dark and peace of my final bed
high-born race
she has a clear, wind-sheltered loveliness
a bird sang
my mother taught me that every night
where shall i find you
there is a country full of wine
brother, i am fire
the sun is up

 



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