Man is gone and laughters,
But pigeon still gutar-gues
On grain, he had sprinkled
Like an early morning light.
His silence still dreams like
A spring morning’s breeze.
Pigeon flight makes sound
In the vast silence of wings.
Man is gone and laughters,
But pigeon still gutar-gues
On grain, he had sprinkled
Like an early morning light.
His silence still dreams like
A spring morning’s breeze.
Pigeon flight makes sound
In the vast silence of wings.
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