washes for a moment the loneliness weighs on the soul, the rain, but he knows of bitter cold.
Where to find the golden poetry that warms your life?
Oh, do not stop, do not stop the rain! Your friend is a cold, your being, and offered it to those meetings so you are because it is not bitter, but rare aroma, nor frost, but fresh response to a promise of life.
remember when I left for other places, rain, remember to go back: I still need you to caress away my oppression.
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