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In the short, blue twilight I took a small walk The ground was red, burst-dry The sky was thin and terribly high and blue thistles stiff and whimsical rustled in a rage and unwillingly Quietly grazing next to a grey rock suddenly I saw on high legs a young donkey; his ears seemed transparent, his visage was proud. His long, amber eyes blinked like water, earnest and considered and impartial was his gaze And after a short, fierce shock I froze in amazement. Or could it have been esteem for this fair, sound animal, with which I proceeded ? A painful memory: I used to be like this, That soundness and gentleness, Light earnest and dreaminess O' could I once more regain that, could I once more start over. M Vasalis |
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