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The Valley of Kings
poetry [ ]
old times in bucharest

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
by [lumiere ]

2009-04-01  |     | 



I bowed my eyes before the thinking,
words were not,
but only little steps,
I listen to the wind,
knockin'to every door,
smoked wood by jewish loves
the lost singing colours
my memories floating with dry air

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