A dying swan in a palace surrounded.
A swan mysterious silken robe
That instead of slipping into the mainstream
leda
are tired of looking tight space.
The swan is a sick man who worships the God of Gold;
Sun's father races his agony
fruitful So sadness is a symphony
of flowers are opened in the shade of weeping.
have chest crossed by a dagger crazy,
blood Drop by drop diluted in the lake
and blue waters under the magician
love rubies Power of distilled its wrong.
The soul of this swan is a sensitive ...
not raise the voice on the side of the pond
If you do not want the swan with the peak starting
holding the knife was there illegally. They
old legends that are sick of love.
That big heart has been a hundredfold
And that is in the core as the crucified
A pain that encompasses all human pain.
And the legends it is a swan-poet ...
That magic has anointed rate
throat
And sing because yes, as the stream sings
Crystal Rhyme your current worries.
I dreamed one night in the old palace
swan was tired of looking at space.
Alfonsina Storni
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