Old Love, whose shadow dims my loving propensity
now ,
're like a shadow on the mountain
lighting of the dawn.
Old Love, whose grief
agility work my joy, you
summit tyranny against freedom
noon.
Love Old whose voice stifles the new little voice
affection,
are projected word of mouth in a mouth
unpublished child. Love
old, whose sense
made to fit the world in our tears,
are the soul turned into wind and you wind
become song. Love
old, as loving remembrance
each close approach,
you that emotion and can only
who remembers the sea from the land.
now ,
're like a shadow on the mountain
lighting of the dawn.
Old Love, whose grief
agility work my joy, you
summit tyranny against freedom
noon.
Love Old whose voice stifles the new little voice
affection,
are projected word of mouth in a mouth
unpublished child. Love
old, whose sense
made to fit the world in our tears,
are the soul turned into wind and you wind
become song. Love
old, as loving remembrance
each close approach,
you that emotion and can only
who remembers the sea from the land.
Francisco Luis Bernardez.
Painting: "The Wave", 1896, William Adolphe Bouguereau.
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