I love this poem from Paul Verlaine, Chanson d’automne, in it’s original French version of course. It goes like this:
Les sanglots longs
Des violons
De l’automne
Blessent mon coeur
D’une langueur
Monotone.
About Me
Dreamer. Wanderer. Artist.
Barefoot lady who talks to birds. Who loves the wind and her morning coffee.
Who sings out loud and still believes in magic.
Perfectly imperfect, and that suits me just fine.
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