1175
21.iii.23
4.80
let
gladden
another
aubade
take our time with
this rise and always falling
come to an edge all afoot
how else?
the little triumph
a frond beside this path
pond slow
one must be dim
blink, best receive
the gods about
from just such a dream
come to
a thunder for our midst
stream fast
pass through webs unseen
thus more of mist
and first thing yet –
our victory at last
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