The wind rushes through the bushes
all black and green, scattered snow
Chilling
In the sunny countryside.
The sour smell is near the woods,
Horizon sings with voice
cocks steeples of the villages
crudely glow on the clouds. This delightful walk
Through the fog light
teasing sometimes rolls up a sale.
Ah! ignore my old fire that cough! I
ants full heels.
Arise, my soul, quick, come!
Spring is still severe, but which at times
s'édulcore
On a warm breath just enough
To better feel the cold past
And think of the God of mercy ...
Go, my soul, hope great!
Paul Verlaine (1844-1896)
From the shortness of life
Most mortals, Paulinus, complain of unfair discipline of nature, that we are born for a life so short that the measurement of time given to us fled with such speed, speed dries up, that with the exception of a very small number, life abandons the rest of mankind, when they were preparing to live.
Seneca
all black and green, scattered snow
Chilling
In the sunny countryside.
The sour smell is near the woods,
Horizon sings with voice
cocks steeples of the villages
crudely glow on the clouds. This delightful walk
Through the fog light
teasing sometimes rolls up a sale.
Ah! ignore my old fire that cough! I
ants full heels.
Arise, my soul, quick, come!
Spring is still severe, but which at times
s'édulcore
On a warm breath just enough
To better feel the cold past
And think of the God of mercy ...
Go, my soul, hope great!
Paul Verlaine (1844-1896)
From the shortness of life
Most mortals, Paulinus, complain of unfair discipline of nature, that we are born for a life so short that the measurement of time given to us fled with such speed, speed dries up, that with the exception of a very small number, life abandons the rest of mankind, when they were preparing to live.
Seneca
Freedom of expression does not wear that if you do not use it 
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