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  • Writer: Mezei Karsa
    Mezei Karsa
  • May 11, 2023
  • 1 min read


He thought about the world,

Always burning the candlelight.

But now you see it's not so,

A burden on her heart, no comfort.


His word was the most beautiful flower

Sometimes like a rose blossom

The rusty moustache was smouldering,

Hungarian Zeus laughed at me


Her old mind was sad with grief,

Blessed is his beautiful memory.

She was a candle, her light shines,

From my eyes a tear dripped.


Mezei Karsa XII. H

 
 
 

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