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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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