Woody, georgelt of deer,
crowded around the world now the word on the lips
the delay you,
durchgluet of almost only fit for summer.
it lifts away and you follow him ...
(Paul Celan)
Silvestre, un bramito Tues cervi,
ora dappresso the world holds that the word
t'indugia lips,
flushed from the rest of the summer.
It takes her away and you follow
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