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Joy comes to us as a bride
The first rains burst into bloom
Nightingales strike up a dance in our neighborhood
Elegant water nymphs bring songs
Thoughts turn into gold
And gold all conversation
Poets and girls
Learn kisses by heart
Someone arrives at the festival out of breath
It is time with his flute.
--George Sarandaris--
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http://bridechic.blogspot.com/2009/11/french-garden-vintage.html
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