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■ The oak
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A poem is a whip of roses
Used for lashing the dried path That leads to the unsurpassable wall. Standing in front of the cliffs there is No sound to hear, No word to say, No heart to touch. Only the slim moon Purring like an impish tomcat Is dreaming to catch Venus for dinner. Later on a woman uttering phrases In a never-heard language Draws your attention from behind the wall. A-u-uu, susu su-u, Gyere yere, mi ulu-u, Fiila rota, teme vuota, Amma ruli farri torta! Her voice is so doleful And, even if her house is destroyed, The words of her song are so hopeful. Suddenly, beyond your clouded thoughts Everything becomes clear: The stars are now reflections of your eyes!… You are here with me And there with them on the other side of the night. There is one thing I don’t understand: Why are you still hiding the light?
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