Ataraxia
Ataraxia - Aquarello lyrics
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Your hands and my words trace circles, Lines, volutes, assonances, Fragrances of sonorous abstractions Atmospheric nuances, Tenuous impalpable motions of spinging chords; Cerulean, overseas-blues hover and twist In floating constellations "We open the dance like unusual Comedians or sylvestrian Interpreters of a bizarre picture."