Every Night I Send You Flowers by Gabriel Rosenstock - HTML preview
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LXXVI
duitse lorgaíos
an ní nach raibh teacht air
d’aimsíos friotal don ní doráite
anois gan aon chuid díom fágtha
éist le siollaí deireanacha m’amhráinse
for You i sought
what could not be found
said what could not be said
now, emptied of all,
hear the last strains of my song