The Red Monks,
tireless Guards,
of unmentionable abysses
slow down the Flows.
In the dark recesses
of a world-prison
between adverse processes
of alternate reason,
from thousand and more years,
without drop,
without passion
and not even affliction,
the Ceremony goes on,
but only the Believes
could a day to see
every chain to fall!
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I have written this my poetry in Italian language, therefore its translation in English language could have minor "Vis Poetica".
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