One suddenly bears the children of tomorrow,
Begotten few are the begotten many,
Filling the gas stations day by day
Like cars of the fraternity.
There is children traffic, all the time,
Every avenue of the days and weeks.
One finally becomes a hamlet in this unique clay,
Inside the fiery brides is a fiery groom,
Fading into the village with worries.
My best right is the one I left,
Cars of sisters and brothers are against the wall,
Waiting, witching, wanting, and wishing
Like the wives of the ancient world,
Like men who enclose the animals of design.
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