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Twenty-three mimosa blooms
Life is perhaps a silent waltz
Of a sky-blue skirt in the wind
Señorita spinning around
On the flat mud roof, feet unshod
Life is perhaps the last twinkles
Fading away in the glass eyes
Of the sad doll cuddled to death
And the young girl who wept rivers
In the dark of the moonless night
Cinderella shoe left behind
Beneath the old pomegranate tree
Awaiting the runaway prince
In the dark of the moonless night
The sad bluebell singing the blues
Sky-blue dress waving in the wind
Turning opal, then ebony
Agony in the cold Northwind
Bluebell stood there, lofty and proud
Just a simple nod of the head
And quiet tinklings of the heart
Behold! Hidden lake in the eyes
Tears that no one ever perceived
Mourning the lacrima mortis
Shed from the blue eyes of a doll
Behold! Sunlit bridal bouquet
With twenty-three mimosa blooms
On the waves, running with the wind
To seashores far beyond the sphere
Life is perhaps this silhouette
Gently going down on its knees
And the hands, clement and soothing
Reaching out and washing your feet
Purana
23/01/2019
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