***
And she darted a last look at me
a sum of all her looks ‒, cheerful,
tired, ardent, empty, vivacious,
orphaned, melancholic, altruistic,
nunlike, libertine, lucky, unhappy,
dead eyes. She blinked a few times
dreamily and she told me so,
“Don’t cry for me, a bird sings
this simple life on a branch
and our hell rejoices again
our sufferings are wind
and the stars hear tell of them.”
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