BOOKS THAT SOOTHE THE DYING
The humming sounds
like the
primrose singing.
New across your gaze
whole pillars torment you
between journeys.
Everywhere longings
that occurred gradually
finally overflow you.
And intently felt irony
is like bread
to the sentence of
imagination.
Also, sitting appears
doubtful
even while the wakeful
man
goes straight in
the parlour.
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