The closer to autumn, the closer to the desert I condemn wine or childhood.. To tell you: how far you were How barren and barren you were. Come closer, so that your garment may rejoice in the memory of my garment To tell you what water does not say to water The wind does not hesitate to say it And the mirrors ignore him, And what is not in the eternal fire. To tell you: the windows that I left Windows of wood and tears, The streets are made of tar and absence Gardens are couches made of wood There is a mouth behind my ear He shouts at you to come, And when you overflow from your drunkenness and elation Make your way in us
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