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I lost a cute hedgehog last summer.

I can only dream overnight - mourn. 

The amaranthine body lay on grass.

Moreover, it was a dark time for Blue Hours.

My life became unending lunar-dark.

Then moon shone palely without enchantment.

The Erlking at dawn, morn, dew and star cried.

Dark dazzlingly ovidian for his sake.

Without the hedgehog the time is so sad.

The bards sing the song of tender nights.

The hedgehog sits in a fair paradise,

dreaming of the enchantment of butterflies.

The choir: >O, bewitch soft bat, the ontology of night.

The mourning dreamery lies, with the pearl sparks - cemetery.

Long live ghost of hedgehog, in spirit of the dreamy ghosts!<

The choir, I and animal are drunk of the musing wings,

shrouded in tenderness of  hereafter-dogs, moonlit stars.


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