through a dusty side-street
next to a wooden bench
with boards now broken,
you'll find a house, a palace,
beautiful, some say
as a Gothic church,
the former temple of a world
that was like a garden.
Just between its walls,
witnesses of change,
on dusty, rusty shelves,
books, waiting to be read,
maybe someone from the past
for only he can understand
their thoughts, forgotten.
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