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(VII) wordsFrom behind a niqab of words I observe life as it slumbering flows spread out on a leaf of hushed voices a humming of thoughts disconnected roots of a thorny acacia set in the lukewarm seed of rock left to wither in the winter sun while through eyes of needles of clouds there flies single an eagle lost in a gust of the stale wind by a moon ray unusually silent Guido Comin PoetaMatusèl |
