once again calling, the ceaseless edges of
your hydrous eyes, in the far - off,
some nomadic clouds are
gathering under the
unseen stormy
sky, blazing
valleys
maybe get the resuscitation, obviously the
freshness in the wind, brings some
redolent news of your silent
consent, life again
emerging
from
the gloomy mood, toward the passionate
undulated waves of the ocean - -
* *
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