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The cocks of the rock move up
to crystal
They defend the dew with cockscomb blows
While the charming device of the lightning
Descends upon the banner of ruins
The sand is nothing more than a phosphorescent clock
That says midnight
With the arms of a forgotten woman
Place of refuge winding in the country
Set up to celestial approaches and retreats
It is here
The hard blue temples of the villa bathe in the night that traces my images
Hair hair
Ill takes strength close by
Only it wishes us
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