A RIVER











It could be a huge river A ride of paws, a tumult, a fury A rage ripped off a torn stem A very high scream But also a tiny weed for returns The collapse of a pine cone burnt in the flame A hand that touches the passage Or indecision staring without seeing Anyway, something that we cannot lose Even if everything else is lost And that we will perpetually celebrate Because everything arises from that alone But before we get there First poverty as profound as leprosy And the cheated curses and true death What a credit to forget vain Or disguised as a revolution The school of joy is full of tears and blood But also of eternity And from the vanished mouths of the saints As the hedges of March the truths shine.

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