I would like it very much if my trees had souls
If only my paintings had a touch of summer
Then the eyes that look at them, would in turn share a friendly smirk
I would like I if my grass wasn’t full of nails
So that the charters inside wouldn’t bleed
If my paintings would only have a flat ground to sit on,
instead of hills and sharp cliffs.
I can wish all these things but I know it will not come true
I know that in reality this is my life
And the only way to show one my true core,
I must speak in two tongues
 
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