An entire morning a bird
is waking me up
from the branches of my vocal cords,
an entire morning
my dream
with pupils as a snare
is hunting that insomnia bird,
that is breaking
a delicate membrane of my dream
and - me..
from the womb of life
in which I still have not revived,
and from the midst
of the ocean's morning rose,
she is looking
to the land of my sleeping body,
and with an echo of breathing waiting
on me to wake up
that bird
in my lady's eyes
this morning
was like sunrise over all the time,
when
with most beautiful smile of the rose,
she said to me,
-Good morning my love...
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