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Alone a bird weeps, on a fruitless tree, with his head bowed sun crosses the horizon The moist graves, don’t seem to level , unaltered shadows glimmer in the smoky air Unwritten lines of hands hide the wailing mouth, Again a prayer remained unanswered The garden of corpses floats on a lake, a boatman rows on the saffron water Red bark of Chinar, nailed to slumber, White fortress bleeds tonight Thorny hands of friends water a Sprouting enemy, in spring autumn blooms Promised death by the angel of life, Chaotic breeze combs time At the shrieking doors, eyes wait to

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