Like a bird with broken wing_x000D_ _x000D_ that has traveled through wind for years . . ._x000D_ _x000D_ I sleep and my heart stays awake . . .
Giorgos SeferisRead
You spoke about things they couldn't see and so they laughed. Yet to row up the dark river against the current, to take the unknown road blindly, stubbornly, and to search for words rooted like the knotted olive tree- let them laugh. And to yearn for the other world to inhabit today's suffocating loneliness, this ravaged present- let them be.
Like a bird with broken wing_x000D_ _x000D_ that has traveled through wind for years . . ._x000D_ _x000D_ I sleep and my heart stays awake . . .
For poetry there exists neither large countries nor small. Its domain is in the heart of all men.
Leaves like rusty tin_x000D_ _x000D_ for the desolate mind that has seen the end-_x000D_ _x000D_ the barest glimmerings._x000D_ _x000D_ Leaves aswirl with gulls_x000D_ _x000D_ made wild by winter.
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