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Horatiu Stamatin

Sing, o, Goddess...

(Sing, o, Goddess…)

Isn’t it that you are full of rage against your own Hand when she writes this poem?
A thought leads you to Maria Antoinette’s guillotine …
They will send it home, bleeding in a sentimental bandage.
You haven’t anything else to do but to organize some funeral with a lot of guests.

poem by Horatiu StamatinReport problemRelated quotes
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