Down to droughts of plains
Away it washes the pains of thy sins.
There hear beats again
In the chest of whom been wicked
And portrayed smiles of friendly.
There now the rain exposes
Thy hate.
Down in the shallow river that flow
Init they flow
How thy hate had hid
For smiles on faces had been.
This by far thee scent of mercy
[Israel Xaba: 7 March 2024]
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