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Asking neither names, nor historical periods, Clio draws wide circles of popular masses around square lonelinesses. What's all this noise about? A rich man’s circumference is longer than a pauper’s one! Down with circumference! Fortunately, the nasturtium-clad fence is high enough. The noise is getting louder. Is it just me, or do they want again to take away and to split everything they have already taken and split once? Hydrocarbons, how sweet the smell! Oh, heavenly music of coins clinking! Perhaps, but I’ve chosen the planets motion instead of the people's movement. Violent Paris isn’t worth a mass: having fenced my paradise garden, I admire the swarthiness of girl’s skin and the whiteness of English play. Neither the close lightnings of revolution, nor the accusative case of proclamations, nor uprising, nor mutiny nor bloody revolt shall disturb your honey sleep my dear nasturtiums

Copyright © | Year Posted 2019

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Date: 7/23/2019 9:07:00 AM
Kurt, I like this poem. I don't know how hydrocarbons smell but I like how you brought then to my attention. +English plays. -Richard
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Date: 4/25/2019 12:25:00 PM
Admirable choice! Here's to flower power, (i/o 'Power to the People,' which never results in anything but killing, blood, and then the same-old, same-old anyway)… and admirably expressed too! :) gw
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Kurt Ravidas
Date: 4/25/2019 5:38:00 PM
Another translation. Thank you, Wolf.