I no longer have to dowithout now,
all coulors are translated
into sounds and smells.
And they ring infinifely sweef
like tones.
why should I need a book?
The wind leaves through the trees,
and I know what passes there for words
and sometimes repeat them softly.
And death who plucks eyes like flowers,
doesn`t find my eyes.
all coulors are translated
into sounds and smells.
And they ring infinifely sweef
like tones.
why should I need a book?
The wind leaves through the trees,
and I know what passes there for words
and sometimes repeat them softly.
And death who plucks eyes like flowers,
doesn`t find my eyes.
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