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■ Pașadine în vers alb (73)
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- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - 2007-10-29 | [Acest text ar trebui citit în english] |
Flowers
by mazHur A lover of flowers I am, And who isn't ? Only hearts made of grit are unable to perceive the exuberant charm and beauty of blooming floral buds changing into whorls,spires, hurls and curls of unmatched petaled architecture superimposed with lovely rainbow colors bursting and spouting with celestial redolence So soothing to the senses, bringing bliss to the heart; these rosaries of nature, these flowers, swinging on the bough, Ah,these wide spread ubiquitous botanical bits of immense corrollate grandeur; Harbingers of joyous Spring, blooming in conclaves of season of love overflowing with heavenly beauty, pride and joy, oblivious of their imminent fate, that rests with the moth sucking nectar out of their innocent virginity and make them bloom into clouded face of fruitful forms, then make them wither and drop to earth by the cruel hands of first autumnal wind. These emblems of sparkling elegance; Prophetic signs of Nature's blessings, Botanical cherubs of God,bloom and smile in beauty but once, like the purity of a budding virgin destined to rupture at the first stroke of antheral love by the young prince of spring to their hearts' delight!
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