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MY DREAMS, MY WORKS, MUST WAIT TILL AFTER HELL

 

I hold my honey and I store my bread

In little jars and cabinets of my will.

I label clearly, and each latch and lid

I bid, be firm till I return from hell.

I am very hungry. I am incomplete.

And none can give me any word but Wait,

The puny light. I keep my eyes pointed in;

Hoping that, when the devil days of my hurt

Drag out to their last dregs and i resume

On such legs as are left me, in such heart

As I can manage, remember to go home,

My taste will not have turned insensitive

To honey and bread old purity could love.

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2 Comments

  1. piacere di conoscerti.

    • elisabetta beneforti
    • Posted October 15, 2013 at 4:17 pm
    • Permalink

    contraccambio il piacere 🙂


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