Yes, a wound is there
In the middle of the heart's delight
Like the face of a sleeping volcano
Yes, a wound is there
...
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smell of death, I like it, it is everywhere. good one, let me welcome you here..
Let again and again The volcano come out of it's sleep Take care of the floewring heart Till the lava turns into The cold water of a brook. till the lave becomes cool like a brook.... thank u very much for this poem. tony