The where the vessel dies verbena
of a sudden fan was cracked;
The coup had barely touching the:
No noise has revealed.
But the slight bruising,
Mordant crystal every day, walking one
invisible and safe
In has slowly round.
His fled fresh water drip
The juice ran out of flowers;
Nobody still not aware of it,
Do not touch it, it is broken.
Often the hand that loves
touching the heart, bruises;
Then the heart splits itself
The flower of love perishes
Still intact in the eyes of the world, he feels
grow and crying softly
His injury fine profound
is broken, do not touch.
***
Sully Prudhomme
Sully Prudhomme
(1839-1907)
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