So many times i had seen this place, through the window
And today I found a passage, a gateway,
Beyond a narrow path, full of mud at this time of the year,
Between the puddles and along the ponds,
A deserted territory, cleansed from man and sound,
Only echoes the whisper of silence,
The low frizzling of power lines,
And the squeak of snow under my footsteps.
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