What be this frosty air,
pure, cold and free
that I now so truly breath
before the birth of spring green
before the end of this white scene
a tear runs and freezes
as if to instill forever this memory
this beautiful sanctity,
sterility insane,
all very pretty on this secluded lane
but then
broken in a sudden bloom
by the lonely song of a bird in the trees
the first one to return to me
from a place beyond the Sea.
Selite:
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