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■ The oak
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From clouds of light pours your echo
In drops of rain love again I don’t know why the grass accuses me Of being wooded clothed in leaves. Don’t contrive with cruel Ivy You are raining kisses on my wet forehead Thundering me with word full of passion Lightning coursing through my body. Earth stops for a moment in turning To see in a keyhole love A flood containing Omega and Alpha A rain which holds a rain with both of us.
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