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On grey days, the sky dresses,
of soft embraces, of a sad mantle.
The clouds come closer, in a light dance,
bringing a whisper, a new waiting.
Sometimes they are the best,
to find in the shadows,
a corner of colours,
where the soul is amazed.
To fly in its embrace, to let oneself be carried away,
to different landscapes, to dream without stopping.
The figures they form, in their subtle swaying, are echoes of worlds,
are echoes of worlds, are tales of April.