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54 A promise How shall we two meet In embraces When eyes will weep How shall we bring our hands to greet When cruel nights and days pass on their feet Persuading us with them to time’s end And when the hawk will not sing to me, When the sun on its last walk The nights that wait, An emptiness that soaks I know on your side I will never walk But to my heart, to my soul Well-kept like it were a museum, the promises It will not be what it is If I fail to love you a countless time Without end The days are empty Like words of a foreign language Happiness stands in shreds Like flowers after an electric storm Loneliness huddles Like pain on the soul Darkness settles down Like formless nostalgia on the heart These desperate lips share dreams Like cigars puffing deceptive hope Into a sky groping for a future ...

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