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■ I know what you're thinking, father
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You said the root was poisonous flame
But taught me wise not to disdain The swift sad breeze may sweep your strength Yet, nonetheless I deem my friend Should you behold of many keys The dying sun of love, between pale autumn leaves With soft scented breath of new-born bud Indulge me not squirm in mud Bestow my soul, shepherd my dreams One who disguises gold heavenly mist Downfall of draught to dreadful storm Entangled earth, no seed too old. Warmth of sweet grapes, melted in copper Wide open arms, the nest unfolding slower Than eyes of beauty, no star too near Show me not wrath when I leave my dear For every drop shall be praised high A kiss of spring upon autumn’s torn sky. No death, my love, now your soil’s fertile Though t’is the humble layer I chose for my burial.
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