As if speaking were not enough,
I sat beneath your window:
Field of summer reeds,
Dry and brittle needs.
You clutch handfuls
Elbow them into corners.
I sat beneath your window:
Field of summer reeds,
Dry and brittle needs.
You clutch handfuls
Elbow them into corners.
Was that your voice? What to avoid?
We must guard against such sudden flames.
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