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Ramin Ara Jan 2017
The product
Of your futile existence
Is a cold sigh
In the world
Ramin Ara Jan 2017
I often see one-legged birds hopping around
And a red bird
In a tree
Listen to late nights waiting for spring
Ramin Ara Jan 2017
The great weaver is a spider

That as the spindle revolves

But there is still no sound
Ramin Ara Jan 2017
A poem is
Tradition and the individual talent
Ramin Ara Jan 2017
I laugh away
At both death and life
And my visage
Is not morose
At them
Ramin Ara Jan 2017
We are so pleased
In a brief moment
Of life
And no flower
Is dissatisfied
With such a duration
Ramin Ara Jan 2017
Seeing something
Is never
Like hearing it
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