Worst Sore Throat Ever With Fever And Chills

Allegory

sheet

In your spare rod,
poor withered leaf,
where are you? - I do not know. The storm broke
oak
that was my only support. In his inconstant breath

the breeze or north wind
since that day I walk
the forest to the plain
the mountain valley.
I go where the wind takes me, without complaint or
scare me: I will
where anything goes, where is
rose leaf
and bay leaf.
Anthony Vincent Arnault (1766 - 1834)

Imitation
Far from its branch, leaf
poor frail,
where you go? - From Beech
there, where I was born, I divided the wind. It
, returning to flight
the woods to the campaign,
brings me to the mountain from the valley.
Seco perpetually
vo pilgrim, and all the rest I ignore.
Vo where every other thing, of course

where is the rose leaf,
and bay leaf.
Giacomo Leopardi (1798 - 1837)