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Ghazal 6 Garden of paradise the priest holds precious flowers in the vase to the vital and carnal In the mosaic of mirrors your appearance has caused a mapping of sunbeams through this world of dew Hidden in what I build is the shape of decay in the blood of the farmer is always revolt Thousands of longings are hidden by silence I am words worn from the stone of a child We know that death has come and death will go that is the sum of this world's many faces |