Cold, cold days.
June comes slowly
I can hear
the voice of the autumn
crying itself away.
Cold, cold words.
May, is dieing
I can't bear
the sound of the winter
coming along the way.
Texto: Lourdes Natalia Zacarías
Imagen: Lourdes Natalia Zacarías
"But sound is never half so fair, as when that music turns to air and the universe dies of excellence." -Thomas Merton from "A Psalm"
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