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- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - 2010-08-13 | [Acest text ar trebui citit în english] |
Over night’s scarf,
A velvety sound breaks the gloom, The field where it was hidden a dwarf, -an innocuous being on a bloom- with its strong shell towards world beyond, that universe numbed in a bell whose string was replaced by a birdsong. It is the whistle of a nightingale, with flawless songs of melancholy for that snail lost in his own shell; he has wondered and cried deeply, because no one could open his world, invaded of lights after rains and sparkles of love. Miscellaneous melodies thrill the snail, trying to uncover it from afar, upon a hill, at a mystic time in a night of spring; but a voice from inside the shell screams tight, it was the last sign of life from undiscovered snail’s world, which not longer belong to our sky; there it’s flying only the snail’s friend with its healing song.
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