Promur
@promur
People leave and people come Three eternal words — it was, it is and it will be— Without closing, repeat the circle. A wreath of love, and joy, and torment Young hands will pick up again, When we drop it from our hands. May it be light and blooming, For a new life, following us, To smell all the charm of the earth, How it smelled to us. Don't be afraid of repetition. Both the sacrament of death and the sacrament of birth Blessed with eternal novelty.
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