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Poem	I have become very hairy all over my body. I'm afraid they'll start hunting me because of my fur. My multicolored shirt has no meaning of love -- it looks like an air photo of a railway station. At night my body is open and awake under the blanket, like eyes under the blindfold of someone to be shot. Restless I shall wander about; hungry for life I'll die. Yet I wanted to be calm, like a mound with all its cities destroyed, and tranquil, like a full cemetery.
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