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■ The oak
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Look, the night is falling now
on the lands never with snow in the town in silence asleep like a child stopping to weep I walk on the nocturnal paths bathed in moonlight all alone recalling when we were apart treating ourselves like a clown The crickets are singing there accompanying my short steps I wish you were here to share the night beauty in all shapes But how can I hope to touch the flesh moving like the wind even in the dark with no torch towards the ends I won’t find? The time wheels keep turning day and night, or in between there is no benefit of finding who is dirty and who is clean I walk on the nocturnal alleys in the moonlight just by myself thinking of why having two ways keeping each life in a distinct shelf Look, the night is on its way now and the wind is too lazy to blow in the streets in silence asleep like a horn stopping to beep Yogyakarta, 9 March 2005
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