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  • Under the midnight sky I danced;

    A warm breeze whispered in my ear,

    I am here.

    I dreamt I danced with Isadora

    An old man asks me to lift a flower to his daughter’s grave,

    Another woman faints in sorrow,

    It becomes real.

    I dreamt I danced with Isadora.

    Lay flowers down beside me,

    Capture me,

    The warm breeze whispers in my ear,

    I am here.

    From Auschwitz to Bickenou they fell,

    Coming out of flames,

    Holding up by ribs,

    One by one they fell,

    Corpses.

    I tried to catch a shooting star but I fell amongst the flowers

    Rolling, when I stopped, I remembered we are all just flowers.

    Reflecting while visiting Père Lachaise Cemetery

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