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şeirlər poems

5
The poet was burnt
And his ashes were blown off.
The poet was driven away
From his land
And squirmed in a strange land.
The poet was robbed.
The poet was called crazy,
The poet withdrew within himself,
The poet was hanged...
Each is a son of poet,
All were born of their own death.
But Benjamin was left to Moloise,
The death to the world was left,
And the world to the poet.

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