52 May I tell you about this day in May When I sound in the singing madness of birds Which in green streams of leaves sink down and dissolve When new leaves suck the juice of stones to melt And old stones swallow wind to swell and swoon And the wind breathes the light to stifle in glow When the light is insane from the madness of birds When in May I am telling this to you?







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IRENE CĂSAR
Confined Verse
Collected Poems

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