My memories.

Where are the visions of fairy tales,

who as a child staring at them

I stun.

Where the fear

who first awakened by love.

There is no one

a dark night,

with her many times we ourselves,

embraces me with invisible hands

and the fingers caressed me the bare shoulder.

And stars uncounted

me through the window faithfully lights

a wind silently past the window,

trying to sing me a lullaby.

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