You keep quiet and I will go and so I go.
My twelve be counted under a felt cap.

Our arms will not be raised to the wind
And they will make no noises to the sky.

We speak Neruda of love,under felt cap.
After he goes and we go there be noise

And arms will be raised and make noise
And there will be no one to count twelve.

(remembering the beautiful poem Keeping Quiet by Pablo Neruda)

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