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I also remember though b
Desperate glare.
October is approaching in the evening,
Empty and small.

Secretly whistle: “Well, well!
What are our years! “,
Tormented until the light in captivity
Measured freedom.

And in the morning you look out into the yard –
Blind leaves make noise.
Their long copper conversation
I can’t stand it.

A dog yapping through a dream
Puppies murmur in the barn,
And the world swirls like a wheel
Without feeling freezing.

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