STRAY BIRDS
165
Thoughts pass in my mind like flocks of ducks in the sky.
I hear the voice of their wings.
166
The canal loves to think that rivers exist solely to supply it with water.
167
The world has kissed my soul with its pain, asking for its return in songs.
168
That which oppresses me, is it my soul trying to come out in the open, or the soul of the world knocking at my heart for its entrance?
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