I want to be,
In the garden of your rains,
The hostage of your elves,
White, yellow, and fuchsia ones.
Open and close
The petals of my will,
To the sinuous back and forth
Movement of your breeze.
What I'm saying is that I
Want you to rummage in me,
Without haste,
And discover
The secret wonder,
Which I have sewn
Inside the meat
Of my chest.
The flower of the god of the wind
That brings with its rain
The thousand forms of life.
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