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Old Song
If love had sung inside
of us, maybe we would
have heard it. You know,
my darling, that love never
sings, never, until it is required.
Even if it had sung inside
of us like an old flamenco
tango, we would still have
learned to dance its sorrow.
You know so well that to dance
and to go on is all we can do.
poem
by
Marieta Maglas
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