Κυριακή, 19 Σεπτεμβρίου 2010

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A dirge
Rough wind, that moanest loud,
Grief too sad for song;
Wild wind, when sullen cloud
Knells all the night long;
Sad storm whose tears are vain,
Bare woods, whose branches strain,
Deep caves and dreary main,
Wail, for the world’s wrong!

Percy Bysshe Shelley (1792 - 1822)

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