The tree has entered my hands, The sap has ascended my arms, The tree has grown in my breast- Downwa
The tree has entered my hands , The sap has ascended my arms , The tree has grown in my breast- Downward , The branches grow out of me , like arms. Tree you are , Moss you are , You are violets with wind above them. A child - so high - you are , And all this is folly to the world. ,
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