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Paper is the Land where I Sow the Words!
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Poe'ten'ry [poems of ten lines] I sow the words in the paper,
Almost everyday,
I know that like the real tree,
The words shall bear fruits later!
Maybe shortly, maybe thousands of years after that,
If history does evoke my ardour,
If history does bestow me with special nobility,
In the next world, celestial peace my soul shall get.
Extremely beholden I am to my brain as well,
Without which I could hardly write and tell!
