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Strange life is this !
That I live everyday,
and yet is not mine ;
My walk lies north -
that I know ;
Who makes me drift southwards ?
And , isn't it strange indeed ,
that my reflections float with the stars ,
while
my deeds are smeared with dust !
The eternal happiness I seek
is not far ;
and I run for the worldly pleasures
- those like mirages , glitter ;
O Life,
Thou art most strange of all !
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07 Jan 1956
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