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Earth
by
Mira Minkova
Sometimes I
put my ear on the Earth
to hear if she is still breathing
and from below I hear the vow of the rain
flown down
on her skin all the day.
Sometimes I hear her crying
Widow like,
as in the morning
I will find her dead - lonely,
the Earth...
But here, years are passing
and I still hear inside me her heart
beats. I think - she is alive.
More and more pretty and dirty
lonely and sad... Earth.
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