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6 M. R* The garden with its fountains in the rain: you will see it only from the low window behind clouded glass. Your room will be lit only by the flames from the fireplace and sometimes the distant lightning will reveal the wrinkles on your forehead, my old Friend. The garden with the fountains that in your hands was a rhythm of the other life, beyond the broken statues and the tragic columns and a dance among the oleanders beside the new quarries, misty glass will have cut off from your days. You won't breathe; earth and the sap of the trees will spring from your memory to strike this window struck by the rain from the outside world. 9 ...


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