These are the merciless rivers of my dolour
and they flow through my embittered heart
whispering to me, “Love on under the redness
of the cloud, we give you quietude
from the world of the ghosts.” This is my
nostalgia for the heart of the eternity
among all the limpid waters she lingers on
less in the reflection of a flash of lightning.
The merciless rivers are the oblivion
and rarely do they awaken the wind.
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