crow
Crow...
A gloomy
black light
In the
graveyard’s guardian’s eye.
Singing in
a rough voice
The fact
there is no choice.
And staring
with envious heart,
From the
top of a grave tore apart,
The back
swallow flying away
Drinking the
yellow Sun’s ray.
Your feathers
are black, too,
But there
is no Spring in what you do:
You take
away our souls in the night…
That’s the
secret hidden in your sight.
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