We just talked, on the phone, yesterday.
You mumbled incoherencies...
Were you drunk?
Don't go yet!
Wait till sunset!
Maybe we could share that eternal moment
A few seconds.
Poetry, hardest of all arts,
Comes to me, comes to you:
Why is the sky blue?
Why do leaves fall?
Blood goes cold...
Like autumn wind.
Play the lute strings,
Play.
Ancient notes cry out.
Ancient languages of origin
Die.
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