From nine
Twelve and mezza.L 'time is spent in a hurry.
My lamp is lit by nine.
And I sit here, without reading, or a Word
dire.Con who
In a CISA
talking all alone?
the image of my body in its bloom, the bulb came
When I switched to the nine
And he cercato.Le scented
I recalled
closed rooms where unspeakable audacity
of enjoyment passed;
and streets today no longer recognize
Haunts packed and excited that no longer exist
theaters and cafes of the time I was in the eyes rekindled
The simulacrum of my body
In his flower, he came here,
mournful memories of me uncovered: The
dead inside the home, lives lost,
The affects of my feelings cari.i
Of the dead, who never had a
some weight and mezza.Le
Twelve hours as they pass.
and mezza.Quanto Twelve years pass.
Constantinos Cavafy "Un'omra fleeting pleasure"
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