He says
Ilhem Issaoui
He says I am but miring my own glee
Many a train whistles with mirth
And I am deaf
My fellow
Hearken to the echoes
And murmurs of rain
And the zephyr
It is there my abode
There lands my farer diaphanous soul
I shall never bloom
I am the lachrymose canitude
And my hopes and dreams
Are as ethereal
as the age of a dandelion
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