I am longing for a place where I had been in
A place where my constellation was not yet in existence
When my limbs were just tiny branches of ungrown trees
With my spirit slept in the breath of the angels as the lullaby
And the divine love as the only tenderness I recognized
I am longing for a place I am going to be in
A place where my constellation dies of exhaustion
When my limbs will become solid and bushy roots
With my spirit sleeps in the dark hollow as the chamber
And the divine love as the only tenderness I'll be expecting
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