25 Ocak 2013 Cuma

A Girl

The tree has entered my hands, 
the sap has ascended my arms, 
the tree has grown in my breast - downward, 
the branches grow out of me, like arms. 

Tree you are, moss you are, 
you are violets with wind above them. 
A child - so high - you are, 
and all this is folly to the world. 

Ezra Pound

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