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User Rating:
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5.6
/10 (16 votes)
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Every friend who talked of love, became a foe. Every eagle shifted its shape to a crow. They say the night is pregnant, and I say, Who is the father? And how do you know?
Shams al-Din Hafiz
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Thursday, January 01, 2004 |
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Read poems about / on: father, friend, night, love
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