poems back artist cataloque

The minute twilight Heaven
Is gobbling up itself
And giving birth to itself.
The minute feral minutes
Are worrying in a circle's dungeon
And rattling with their chains in fear.
The minute when your back bends down
Under the problems burden
And shadows strangle whisperting,
Don't be afraid and tear
The torture kniteted by depression
And wait, I beg you, wait a bit -
Your lips will touch the paradise of morning.
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Вратарь Арсенала Мануэль Альмуния