Addressing me as Stone,
People often scold me now.
The poor peasants lament everyday
Calling me Waste Land.
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its beautiful poem- also I'm shocked here as like the pea-hen girl No sooner had I grasped that rose of good luck than all its petals, like dry leaves, fell down on the dust. /// superb poem
A story or a poem- I can, t decide. Superb.