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Two small purple to wish you a wonderful week. The almond blossoms are about to hatch. Some small aster yellows, survivors, we always say hello when small walks. We are in February and the temperatures are so mild that you could imagine in the spring. Yet nature is still asleep. Just countless small buds growing impatient at the end of branches. This will soon be the great explosion.
Good day to you. Ivano
While at their perverse works
Men are panting
Mars laughs, despite the rain,
Prepares secret spring.
For small daisies
slyly when everything sleeps,
He returns collars
And carves buttercups.
In the orchard and the vineyard,
He goes, stealth hairdresser
With a puff swan
Sprinkle the almond to frost.
Nature rests in bed;
him down the garden desert
lace And the rosebuds
In their green velvet corset.
While composing music theory,
That, blackbirds whistling softly,
He sows to near the snowdrops
And the violets in the woods.
On watercress fountain
Where the deer drink, listening intently,
From his hidden hand he recites
The silver bells thrush.
On the grass, so you pick it
He puts the bur ruddy complexion,
And you braid hat leaves
To protect you from the sun.
Then, when his work is done,
And that her reign will end,
the threshold of turning the head in April,
He said: "Spring, you can come!"
Theophile Gautier,
first smile of spring
Good day to you. Ivano
While at their perverse works
Men are panting
Mars laughs, despite the rain,
Prepares secret spring.
For small daisies
slyly when everything sleeps,
He returns collars
And carves buttercups.
In the orchard and the vineyard,
He goes, stealth hairdresser
With a puff swan
Sprinkle the almond to frost.
Nature rests in bed;
him down the garden desert
lace And the rosebuds
In their green velvet corset.
While composing music theory,
That, blackbirds whistling softly,
He sows to near the snowdrops
And the violets in the woods.
On watercress fountain
Where the deer drink, listening intently,
From his hidden hand he recites
The silver bells thrush.
On the grass, so you pick it
He puts the bur ruddy complexion,
And you braid hat leaves
To protect you from the sun.
Then, when his work is done,
And that her reign will end,
the threshold of turning the head in April,
He said: "Spring, you can come!"
Theophile Gautier,
first smile of spring
Freedom of expression does not wear that unless we not use it
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