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Friday, January 12 2007
I love these soft birds, which walk in the air Their life and their love, and prompter than the flash, Which fly away together! I like the flower of the fields, that one picking in the morning, And that the evening, with the ball, one poses on his centre Who of enivrement trembles! I like the swirls of the dances, the pleasures, Festivals, the toilet, and tender desires Who wake up in the heart! I like the guardian angel which directs my steps, Who presses me the hand, and gives me low For the evils a dictame! I like sad willow, at the dumb evening of the day, The hot head encor, full with shade and love, Who leans and who thinks! I like the hand of God, leaving on our heart To fall while smiling this in love flower That the hope is named! I like the soft orchestra, in tears, groaning Who pours on my heart a languorous accent, A sad harmony! I only like to listen to the language of the skies Who speak with the ground, and fires fill up it Of sun and life. I like at the edges of the sea, looking at the blue sky, Who contains in his centre the power of God, To sit me very pensive! I like to follow sometimes in golden dreams My heart which will lose in blued floods Its inactive thought! I like the secret effort of the heart, which gently Be agitated, the thought with soft quiver, That one feels in oneself! Better than the tree, the bird, the flower which likes the eyes, the willow all in tears, the hope of the Skies… I like that which likes me.
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