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April showers,
On the shores the fishermen’s
Boats lie down
Desolately.
April showers,
From their windows hard-working
housewives
Pick up
The clothes hung out to dry.
The long awaited hot season
Seems to want to keep everyone
waiting…
During the long and endless,
Grieved and icy winters,
I have feigned an enviable
Comfort.
During the long and restless
winters
Now coming to an end,
That healthy self-irony
Has been strange too many times.
April showers,
Sweet perfumes chase one another
And then disperse
On the wharf and among the almonds
in bloom.
The long awaited hot season
Seems to want to keep everyone
waiting…
During the long and endless,
Grieved and icy winters,
I have feigned an enviable
Comfort.
During the long and restless
winters
Now coming to an end,
The habit of smiling
Has been strange too many times.
During the long and endless,
Grieved and icy winters,
I have feigned an enviable
Comfort.
During the long and endless,
Grieved and icy winters,
I have feigned an enviable
Comfort.
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When April showers
blur the horizon,
disconsolately fisherman
bring their boats slowly back to the shore.
When April showers
send housewives hurrying outdoors
to salvage rows
of white washing hanging on the line.
I know that summer’s just round the corner
playing hide and seek as it keeps us all waiting.
And through those melancholy winters,
how cold the nights could be,
my imitation of contentment was
a parody.
And through those chilled and cheerless winters,
cold comfort came slowly to an end,
every cloud lost its silver-lining,
having fun was playing a game of pretend.
Then April showers
release the sweet scent of blossoming trees
to ride the wind and
go down to mingle with the salt-sea air.
I know that summer’s just round the corner
playing hide and seek as it keeps us all waiting.
And through those melancholy winters,
how cold the nights could be
my imitation of contentment was
a parody.
And through those chilled and cheerless winters,
cold comfort came slowly to an end.
What we missed then, most of all, was
our indisputable right
to laughter.
And through those melancholy winters,
how cold the nights could be,
my imitation of contentment was
a parody.
And through those melancholy winters,
how cold the nights could be,
my imitation of contentment was a parody.
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