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Epigram On A Suicide
(4 December 1875 – 29 December 1926 / Prague / Czech Republic)

Epigram On A Suicide

EARTH'D up, here lies an imp o' hell,
Planted by Satan's dibble;
Poor silly wretch, he's damned himsel',
To save the Lord the trouble.

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Comments (6)

Their love for each other knows no bound.
again and again the two of us walk out together under the ancient trees, lie down again and again among the flowers, face to face with the sky.
As lovers lie face to face The ground below, the sky above Merge to become a lovely place Till age brings an end to youth and love And both lie buried under the green wood tree......... I invite you to my page too. A very good poem and I've saved it.
I have been hurt in the past. I am not the only one, I look out into the world and realize that I am surrounded by heartbroken romantics. The cemetery through which we walk now, the sorrowing names we read, are not of lost life, but of lost love and failed relationships. For this perfect moment though, surrounded by the ancient trees (what is more ancient than love?) and fragrant flowers, none of that could matter less. We know the odds are not in our favor, but again and again we chose to turn our backs on those realities and instead enbrace the infinity of the sky, while the silent abyss lies dormant and forgotten beneath our backs
laying upon the earth, surrounded by flowers, looking at the sky while it gazes also toward you is nothing less than an intimately beautiful moment.
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