The poet of The Garden Out of Dust offers-to all who wish to listen to her, or rather, to see her-here for the first time, perhaps-a little tender longing for what is constantly passing away, a pinch of feeling for the companions of our everyday fortune and misfortune, a drop of melancholic yet solid hope for a more cheerful tomorrow.
She extends her hand toward us, smeared with the dusty garden colours, askew with disproportionate lore.
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Poetry