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#mistical
Strange phosphorescence of old, a tear precipitates your dress and burns ****** Remote, pristine. Oh woman, you don’t exist on the branches of the sun! Defenseless dances, almost pagan, you burst turmoil in my brains to drive me through your wild exile. Asyllable that rules things maternal on my definite, soft shoulder, will liberate forever a distant loss. Bestow my pupil upon the secret like fragile columns behind the valley, it palpitates as it rises; different such a scarce manner. Shuddering from sugar and salt the perishable breaks before me: far-off minutes, light flesh. Facing the instant, immutable land, you determine your wandering as you go over the light with no memory of the mother manger. Translated by Martin Boyd
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May 22, 2018
May 22, 2018 at 6:21 PM UTC
OF THE MANGER, MOTHER
In my sense able window, a fairy autumn is playing gentle breeze is flowing on the baby coconut leafs who is thundering me from a distant sky? my heart is vibrating alone, the unknown misty again I am seeking a way to move away, none can't hold me in their hand and I hare the angles are calling me and playing their divine song - @ Musfiq us shaleheen
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Jul 17, 2014
Jul 17, 2014 at 2:32 PM UTC
Misty