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when you, mingled between sleep
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And slowly read, and dream of the soft look
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thought: “Had we the first intimation of the Definition of Life,
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ink mere eraser fuck it let’s become
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Sometimes the translations are cryptic in themselves.
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I can’t help looking at the clock:
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in secret one thing / to perceive, the / tall blue starry
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I am not writing a history of these times or of past times or of any future
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we long / for a better world, we seek to deliver
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And I, on the roof’s edge,