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“PERSEPHONE (the spring ballade) Every heart is blooming upon a field of doubt and the flowers autumn reaps - he knows every name about. They grow never in line, although always in the shape of each soul of every lonesome doubt. So whenever I wander along my sorrow's path the horizon behind me glows crimson with all the broken hearts it carries on. A thought yet not dreamt is a love unplanted by hands of grieve - For each who does not bloom by now is long lost in summer's eyes, For autumn reaps but does not give a single tear to water the ground in which he steers sometimes so aimlessly.” — Laura Chouette
PERSEPHONE (the spring ballade)
Every heart
is blooming upon a field of doubt and the flowers autumn reaps
- he knows every name about.
They grow
never in line, although
always in the shape of each soul of every lonesome doubt.
So whenever
I wander along my sorrow's path the horizon behind me glows crimson with all the broken hearts it carries on.
A thought
yet not dreamt is a love unplanted by hands of grieve - For each who does not bloom by now is long lost in summer's eyes,
For autumn
reaps but does not give a single tear to water the ground in which he steers sometimes so aimlessly.