The countless leaves
That shall never fall,
On a deserted bank.
The coldness of a summer night,
Where two stars stand apart,
Watching the emptiness of a heart.
A woman fancying herself with feathers,
Touching a body that shall never taste,
The whim of embrace.
The heat of a snowy evening
Of a poet,
Burning his passion with the verses,
Of an old poem
That in a chimney he is throwing,
With the burden of loneliness
His heart is glowing.
As insisting as water,
Loneliness can be
Carving restlessly
What is left of me.
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