the solitude of existence./生田　稔
　
d together,
murmuring therewith
in the grass shade.
The warped surface is brightly tender,
and motherly sick.
In infancy, dushed out frantic;
Likely the old scene spreads before .
Too hot it is, the boilingness and force,
the hue and smell ,everything
the same as they were―
　The re
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