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| Tom Vandenberg |
(1993)
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| Soliloquy | ||||
| Moon, rootless in sky-water tonight you are less stone than flower, a great lily floating out over the earth ... Where is she, the secret one, who tosses her hair so impatiently? Letīs face it: loveīs a riddle, a beautiful tune played on clumsy instruments. Night folds its hours into garments for nuns, the dark is ticking with stars ... This is a prayer. |
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