| The old park escorts you stoop
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| The shadows of summer are smeared with puddles, like bad makeup
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| All wrong…
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| Hands catch slanting cheekbones, which are now out of reach
|
| So what, draw a dummy
|
| And the blue sea is not enough for a moment:
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| You drew me alone, but you drew two
|
| Incredible white fabric is just paper in appearance
|
| Pencils settle like gray shadows on your fingers
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| Two pairs of legs off the coast:
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| Lavender field and old shoes
|
| Children of minutes and grief-love...
|
| In the memory of the cities there is no boulevard that I would not breathe, -
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| This morning my soul will leave my body
|
| I'm on my knees again...
|
| I am the ghost of your revelations!
|
| The wind tasted like caramel brought sadness
|
| Instead of a river, now a wasteland embraced my house
|
| Old people from empty eyes drop tears on my palm
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| My cheek is shining, but I didn't cry, -
|
| It's the wind in the barking of the puppy barely recognized the dog
|
| At the threshold my tulip wilts: the last leaf falls
|
| It's not easy to understand that the earth is pulling him down...
|
| Like a noose, the note La will crush the neck
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| My soul is already washed by springs in the fields
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| White lips, blue hands
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| A dress and trousers fall to the floor;
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| Someone will take my place in bed -
|
| People are vicious in separation
|
| People are side to betrayal,
|
| But now I will say outside the table -
|
| If the book is rejected by the publisher
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| That the writer has something to be proud of
|
| And I'm not chained, I'm not free, I'm not healthy and I'm not sick
|
| I lie on the burnt grass under the white vaults of two bell towers,
|
| But then the cuckoo falls silent, and we forget about time, -
|
| The cunning shaman beats the tambourine and runs away from the tribe
|
| I'm on my knees again...
|
| I am the ghost of your revelations!
|
| The wind tasted like caramel brought sadness |