One day, I will learn Polish, so that I can read Wisława Szymborska's works untranslated. And master all of Szymanowski's piano sonatas. Or maybe you are only experiencing a strange, passing fixation with that consonant group at the moment.
' ... From wrong to wrong the exasperated spirit Proceeds, unless restored by that refining fire Where you must move in measure, like a dancer.' The day was breaking. In the disfigured street He left me, with a kind of valediction, And faded on the blowing of the horn.
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