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The dawn is fragrant with a ruby rose, the sunset smells as somnolent as blue night violets... In fragrance they compose its head and tail but heart belongs to you. An intricate experimental prose (not actually popular), a new ambiguous poetry... These two compose my blood and flesh but soul belongs to you. An everlasting transience I chose, a wanderlust, a hatred for a queue and noisy neighbors... All of them compose my worthless life but death belongs to you. This weird sonnet came along due to no longer I belong to you. * См. перевод в комментарии 1. |
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