sweat is streaming everywhere
he is panting
whose fame is now in darkness
they glitter
do not entrust your verses to the leaves
you are that Maximus the only man who
soothed the air with song
winds will take and scatter all of these
as a purple flower or poppies
erase you from the memory of time
mad poor fool
unlock the Alps
and singing still made for the stars
not mere rumor but a messenger more certain
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