Love love, life, the sweet delight
of things, blue sceneries
in the days of January
Also, my blood swarms and I laugh through
the eyesthat have recognized the outburst of tears.
I believe the world is beautiful,
that poetry is like bread, it belongs to everyone.
And that my veins don’t end inside me,
but in the unanimous blood of
those who fight for life,
love,
things,
landscapes and the bread;
Everyone’s poetry.

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