PRELUDE – Oh air of evening wrap me, now that I die again. When it will close my eyes, there will be no sea for boats of tears. I go and leave you closed all the rain. But I will return again to every season that I want. I was the sadness of the world. Oh air of evening wrap me, now that I die again.
SHIROKA IN WINTER – There have no more birds. Flights are canceled. Nothing but the primitive aura of rain. The shore broods at the foot of the water, dreaming of the past summer. In the sand of oblivion I pick your portrait of the ceramic. That soon this summer, my God! A handful of sand and a sun fist. The whole summer calendar with a single Saturday, and all day Saturday with a kiss only.
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