LIKE A DANDY OF LONDON DRESSED AS A SOLDIER OF LOVE IN SPRING

Neymar cried after Brazil's elimination from the 2026 World Cup, but his teammates consoled him

Placing it in their palms. It will be a garden. Someday, all this—just to warm it. The space would be captured by a glance, Standing at the edge of silence. And the birds, timidly, hesitant to sing, Cast an empty net of discordant cries For a moment. Nearby, all this was close, right next to life—goutweed, Growing among last year's grasses…

Placing it in their palms. It will be a garden. Someday, all this—just to warm it. The space would be captured by a glance, Standing at the edge of silence. And the birds, timidly, hesitant to sing, Cast an empty net of discordant cries For a moment. Nearby, all this was close, right next to life—goutweed, Growing among last year's grasses…

MONDAY MORNING MOOD

friend of the sea

A tone of tension and yet complete freedom, Slavery and joy, like the meandering and direct run of a passionate hound, Strange and wondrous, suddenly dying away in a dotted line, Like the melting snake of a stream among the stones, When the heat has set in. Indeed, we are at midday. Bones and blood ring, metal glows: we are midday. Our name is yours, we are filled.

A tone of tension and yet complete freedom, Slavery and joy, like the meandering and direct run of a passionate hound, Strange and wondrous, suddenly dying away in a dotted line, Like the melting snake of a stream among the stones, When the heat has set in. Indeed, we are at midday. Bones and blood ring, metal glows: we are midday. Our name is yours, we are filled.

I remain. I look until my gaze is exhausted. Sky, Haven of fragrances, And they—in the arms of the wind, Like sleeping infants, Soaring above the void In the blossoming spring steppe, Where larks walk in the air And write your features, Sky, Above the land of the living.

I remain. I look until my gaze is exhausted. Sky, Haven of fragrances, And they—in the arms of the wind, Like sleeping infants, Soaring above the void In the blossoming spring steppe, Where larks walk in the air And write your features, Sky, Above the land of the living.

I remain. I look until my gaze is exhausted. Sky, Haven of fragrances, And they—in the arms of the wind, Like sleeping infants, Soaring above the void In the blossoming spring steppe, Where larks walk in the air And write your features, Sky, Above the land of the living.