Tag: roses
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On the White Hills
Smoke, a white smoke, floats on the white hills, / a whiteness that flies, scatters the snows. / No one comes now to pluck white roses, / so they fly into the air, whirl and twirl.
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Evening Stroll
The sky’s rouge / drew back / beneath their steps / overgrown with the sidewalks, / mingled with the dust of asphalts.
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Light
Right now – stream your brightest rays / melt brightness into my eyes / and pull me into white light / swimming into a light stream