Never Let Me Lose The Marvel Of Your Statue-like Eyes, Or The Accent The Solitary Rose Of Your Breath Places On My Cheek At Night. I Am Afraid Of Being, On This Shore, A Branchless Trunk, And What I Most Regret Is Having No Flower, Pulp, Or Clay For The Worm Of My Despair. If You Are My Hidden Treasure, If You Are My Cross, My Dampened Pain, If I Am A Dog, And You Alone My Master, Never Let Me Lose What I Have Gained, And Adorn The Branches Of Your River With Leaves Of My Estranged Autumn.
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Never Let Me Lose The Marvel Of
Federico Garcia Lorca
Never Let Me Lose The Marvel Of Your Statue-like Eyes, Or The Accent The Solitary Rose Of Your Breath Places On My Cheek At Night. I Am Afraid Of Being, On This Shore, A Branchless Trunk, And What I Most Regret Is Having No Flower, Pulp, Or Clay For The Worm Of My Despair. If You Are My Hidden Treasure, If You Are My Cross, My Dampened Pain, If I Am A Dog, And You Alone My Master, Never Let Me Lose What I Have Gained, And Adorn The Branches Of Your River With Leaves Of My Estranged Autumn.
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