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Ostara

The spring comes

Like a flow of water,

Like a row of trees

With green buds,

Like a ray of sunshine

That wanders

All over the sky,

Like birds

That cross the air,

Like an old French song

In a quiet cafe.

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Марина

My poetry doesn't reflect my feelings. It mostly stems from observation and communication with the others and sometimes from long days of readin…

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