The moon sneaks through the branches.
As though the thoughts of my hopes.
He sneaks up and is silent.
The night is listless and silent.
What does the moon foretell in silence?
I hear the heart.
Come out and dispel my suspicions.
22 febbraio 2024
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May cherries
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my fruitful branch is pruned
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red as blood
a crippled(…)