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blind princess plucked the black lute her prayers were suspended in midair blue boat made its way across the Persian gulf through a floating blanket of drowned magnolias I was a ghost in a shipwrecked soul that overnight had become solemn I was asking myself which of us was meaner you who had gone or me who had left behind a late summer was a purer adoration hand in hand with a closest sweetheart under plum tree a young poetess recited a verse from a Book of Faith (dedicated to a poet friend at poemhunter, Wassila Nader)