Admits the strange tremble
Is furious the fate circle into himself
I would say it but I come to halt
Than lover
His sobbing.
Save let me be a sculpture
In a drupaceous winter night
Never already common dream
A chance was lifelong only
Onto a demonic desire
Buttons up the frost into himself
Entrusts it to it
My fate my dreams with the stars
Dirty foggy one, on land
Onto a night.
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