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There are many things in the heart,
whispers of a love that never ceases,
hidden desires, truth and reason,
quiet melodies that the soul expresses.
Feelings that dance in the breeze,
like leaves carried on an old wind,
foreign reproaches that time needs,
and the echo of voices that keep lamenting.
Words that lie in a dark corner,
our fingers hesitated, fearful,
each letter feels like an incantation,
made of dreams, of beautiful longings.
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