The moon relinquished sharp-edge cliffs at sea line, And with transparent gold: the waters shine; On board of their pointed boat, this evening The friends enjoy their heated glass of wine. When looking at the clouds passing swiftly Through the reflection of the moonlight post; Some of the friends will find those clouds closely Resembling the holy women’s ghosts. Another group imagine those clouds As heaven bound souls of pious men; The third of friends insist without doubts, The clouds resemble caravan of swans.
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5/23/2026 5:12:30 AM # 1.0.0