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A Woman Sweeping, Passed By A Poet

Her back to me as I passed by
Her doorstep by her swept
By a handbroom without a long handle
Her home lovingly kept
A scene that could be anywhere
As it was where there I walked
And her back was to me
To her when passing, not I talked
And that housewife in Knes Selo
Had her own worries about which to care
Passed by a poet she did not know
As she swept her doorstep there.

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