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Unquenchable thirst of love…
sonnet book
(Part one)
The name of rose
Sonnet 145

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Oh, that's indeed is a kind of torture

The bow touches vibrant chords…

The violinist's young, but each accord

Resounds like a voice of fortune.


And gently violin surrenders

And he is ardent, as a hun

And wise, just like the runes creator.

Soul, like a snail, went to the sun


And opens up towards the music

And, trembles like a singing violin,

The spell of music make her sing

She soared, clear and illusive


In glowing worlds, so high above

When filled with miracle of love…


Unquenchable thirst of love…

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