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■ The oak
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My sleep you disturb with images of dreams,
Other times you send me the longing to write. The words convert into tears, The mind sprints toward the extended passions. I am alone with my own life, On the brunt road with his face changed. I know, your soul tells that all’s in vain, O, God, what dark abyss separates us! And still the love comes, I don’t know, from the earth, from the sky Or above the water, And the uncertain thought That I see wandering, Seems like a silk rope which I’d like to grab. My love, Sometimes you send me the longing writing, Other times you disturb my sleep with Images of dream…
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