nostalgia
The moon is hovering over the village Its inhabitants are asleep On this terraced-roof, I smell the adobe of nostalgia The light in neighbour garden is on Mine is off The moonlight is shining on plateful of cucumbers, on the water pitcher Frogs are croaking An owl is hooting The mountain is nearby: behind the maples behind the service trees And the desert is visible Rocks are not visible, flowerets are not visible From afar, shadows are visible like water solitude, like God song It must be midnight That is the Great Bear, two spans above the rooftop The...
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