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- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - 2004-12-03 | [Este texto, tienes que leerlo en romana] | Inscrito en la biblioteca por dorin covrig
I met a woman long ago
her hair the black that black can go, Are you a teacher of the heart? Soft she answered no. I met a girl across the sea, her hair the gold that gold can be, Are you a teacher of the heart? Yes, but not for thee. I met a man who lost his mind in some lost place I had to find, follow me the wise man said, but he walked behind. I walked into a hospital where none was sick and none was well, when at night the nurses left I could not walk at all. Morning came and then came noon, dinner time a scalpel blade lay beside my silver spoon. Some girls wander by mistake into the mess that scalpels make. Are you the teachers of my heart? We teach old hearts to break. One morning I woke up alone, the hospital and the nurses gone. Have I carved enough my Lord? Child, you are a bone. I ate and ate and ate, no I did not miss a plate, well How much do these suppers cost? We'll take it out in hate. I spent my hatred everyplace, on every work on every face, someone gave me wishes and I wished for an embrace. Several girls embraced me, then I was embraced by men, Is my passion perfect? No, do it once again. I was handsome I was strong, I knew the words of every song. Did my singing please you? No, the words you sang were wrong. Who is it whom I address, who takes down what I confess? Are you the teachers of my heart? We teach old hearts to rest. Oh teachers are my lessons done? I cannot do another one. They laughed and laughed and said, Well child, are your lessons done?
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