The exploration of the green in your eyes,
Deep as much as them,
In a sphere as azure as them
Failing to create a forest
With the breasts full of leaves gonna suckle the world,
For ignoring the singularity of being dissafiliated from the soil,
By reclining to the shade of a unshaved tree
Igniting the most early weaned leaf that ever fresh
With guning down the ranks of ants,
And in the darkness of your eye pupils
Overflow with sorrow, desperation and lament from the eyes damped
With the winds that accompanied to the air rising from the holes of
The flageolet that plays
The most placid victory song of the universe
that telling the good news of their salvation from the sheepherd
To the lambs that lost their mothers.
