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A flying flower,
The amber fire,
The wings of south,
The soul sparkling.
I whisper “grazie”, “asante”,
“spasibo”, “obrigado“,
“love you”…
My papillon,
All saints choir,
Teatro alla Scala,
The air – воздух – in my mouth,
My eyes of grace,
My picnic Sunday,
My trying
Not to force, to fondle,
You are the bottom of my poem,
A surface of a wild orange,
A drop of honey
In my cup of

Painting ‘kalk de toi’ by Sara Maino, 2021 7-8.