With one song, I would write,
For 1000 years to sing.
No. No more poems.
No more songs.
I contain in that one line.
Just one line,
Only one line.
No more lines.
In one line, the revolt of the world arises.
I am awakened in that line.
Only one line.
" The flowering tree
That bloomed from the
Soil soaked in the blood."
Revolt of the land. Revolution.
From the pen, from the words,
Revolt of the oppressed.
The land of revolution.
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