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   EXISTENCE (2)


   Drunk on the wind, through half-opened
   Eyes I look on the world
   And see so many distressing scenes
   I crawl inward, inward again.

   Melted by its own heat
   The sap rises
   And circulates through
   The pellucid blood
   To the ends of the branches,
   Enduring the bitter winter
   In single-minded solitude.

   Where can I uncoil this loneliness?
   Dose the rest I've sought really exist?
   Can I leave this wind?

   Like a tree,
   Like a winter tree.

    
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