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October 16 Poetry writing course: exercise threeScheherzade of Rimsky-Korsakov
Billows tilting up and sinking down
To the heave of the melodious dawn
Equally with the rhythm of my heart
Where Violin overflows like a dart
Trembling and sobbing
Melancholic like my heart
Through the golden blurry bright
Sparkling is the radiating light
I shun from the real saying
Escaped from my inner being
Scared its keen subtle sensation
Slumping into deeper desolation
My heart weeping, to the
Nostalgic tune’s exhaling
Gigantic strings like the vast woods
The immense silence reveals the secret truth
The clarinet gliding, the wind sliding
The safe light of warming
Under which stones solemnly frolicking
On the dry soft field of the woods
I sail; glistening is the sea
Shivering wind circles salty moist
And sunlight pokes grayish mist
Drops of the light trickle down
Into the chromatic transparency
My heart weeping, to the
Nostalgic tune’s exhaling
The truth in the memory
The trace in the age-old imagery
I take on my grand black frock
Treading to the horizontal drippy sun
My head lowering in the gown
A divot of Primrose, a piece of sky
The ancient sight
My soul is there
The woods tilting up and sinking down
To the heave of my heart’s core
Deep in the forest are the remote echoes
With the clarinet gliding, the wind sliding
And the safe light of warming
Stones solemnly frolicking
On the dry field of the woods
I soar up to the azure,
Hovering and looking down
Transcending every dawn
I am free, in a splendid realm
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