By Ikram Benzouine
By Ikram Benzouine
Morocco World News
Rabat, January 19, 2013
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For it smells not like spring,
The breeze’s so very flavorless
A blissful spice has faded in an eye-blink
And florid souls stand breathless
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For it looks not like spring,
The green spirit has grown old
Hideous wrinkles show on the chin
Of a once-vivid and proud Nature Soul
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For it sounds not like spring,
No bird- tweet pauses to celebrate
The scent of sun-drenched mornings;
Only Sound of Death is played
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For it feels not like spring,
No souvenirs or keepsakes are sensed
Nothing to caress but a broken wing
Of a dying soul and a mourning season
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For Tender Spring has ended,
My ink is slowly drying out
My mind’s eye is soon blinded
My words can scarcely make a shout…
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