Origin of Poetry Tree
As laden
With a pain
he threw a stone
On his glass with wine
Broken
To many pieces
Spilt bleeding violet
And the earth became a drunk
As a grace
the earth gave
A grape tree
Without
Loss
Who can
Gain
Parable
Without scratching
Your soul
As cold is blacken coal
You can't own
The butter with no churning
At all !!
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