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Just once let’s imagine a word for the memory
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The grape
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now when the leaves are falling
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yes yes yes — please
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the heart does, actually, ache
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I think it is September, September.
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Freaks of bright crystal, airy beauties fair,
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You turn your head —
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Among shoes, I am the one with the pebble,
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A certain kind of Eden holds us thrall.
