The whispers inside the red wheelbarrow’s dew.
A kiss is the morning dew which stand up. (Un baiser, c’est la rosée – Du matin qui s’est levé)
—Charles de Leusse
I love the quietude of misty dawn before the sober sun is up… The morning songs of birds awakening in blooming garden sets my soul gently… Aroma flowers with glistering of the dew… Deep full...
I once had a lovewho folded secrets between her thighs like napkins and concealed memories in the valley of her breasts.There was no match for the freckles on her chest, and no one could mistake...
She called herself Europa, and wandered the world from girlhood till death. She believed only in her life and in her dreams. She called herself Europa, and her god was Beauty.
I’ve been lying in the grass. All morning long, I lay here waiting for the dawn.
I live there…Far above the song-filled clouds,where the dewdrops touch my skin so bareI live there.
This kindness, this stupid kindness, is what is most truly human in a human being. It is what sets man apart, the highest achievement of his soul. No, it says, life is not evil!This kindness...
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