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Mixed hue

Some flowers now past in the summers`pride, 
When Eros playfully wanted his arrows to use, 
But stopped to see where the blond bee will hide. 
So, you escaped from the no time`s trap,muse! 
Your smiles and sour cherries` seeds are my due, 
Because I am the painter of living colors, mixed hue, 
And rapt are my senses at this part invisible view. 
You don`t know what you wish, but feel sure, that I, 
Still dream the sour cherries that in my palms grow, 
At the other side of the garden where the light is on high! 
There, the tree seems to know something I don`t know.

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