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| Winter, Cottonwood |
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| Winter, Cottonwood |
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| Summer, Cottonwood |
Trees!
Were you once arrows
fallen from the blue?
What terrible warriors
cast you down? The stars?
Your music springs
from the soul of birds,
from the eyes of God,
from perfect passion.
Trees!
Will your tough roots know
my heart in the soil?
– Federico, Garcia Lorca, Trees (translated by Catherine Brown)
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