Palaces,
bridges, towers and bells,
The river
is muddy from rain.
No light is
in these narrow streets,
No poppies,
no cherries,
No smiles
and no sunbeams,
No laughing
lips nor kisses.
I cannot
understand the song
The wind is
singing.
These
palace walls
Are prison
walls:
The hangman
walked by here.
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