Thoughtful Nile
If this dance be the last
For I see them throwing spears -
Not for its sport
This dance, a shrilling one.
When we come home for showers
Diapers of our babies, drenched,
Such aroma; a sweet-sour tale to tell
For being ready was the dance for...
Only the dead wishes not for this dance
But the living accustomed to its essence
Such a dance we struggle to get
Yet, a dance we fear to leave
Nor a dance to tango for!
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