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- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - 2005-05-14 | [Text in der Originalsprache: english] | There are so many times when, emerging inside myself I forget about the world... for I get to discover it inside me, more true than ever... There are so many poems I have lost - given to people, erased and burned or transformed... stolen at times by hearts that weren't supposed to be mine, that weren't supposed to care... sometimes I pity my lost energy, I pity me for not giving the light I tried to put down... to make a page brighter... to make a soul lighter... There are seconds of staying alive and being hungry or thirsty, things I had to say to get a peace with the world or myself.... but I can't cry... it is - egoistically - damn painful to blame myself... and giving my love away may not be as wise as it should, but it is in fact a warm gesture that could heal some hot blood and ease down a ray of wind's turbulences... so I don't care, or I care differently, brightly trusting the scene of life... one or two lost poems, a lifetime to recover ahead... one thousand beautiful words, one hundred caresses - the sun, the wind, my trembling hand... the nature in itself - the greatest poem
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