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首页The Poetry of Pablo NerudaBird

Bird

        It o another,

        t of the day.

        t from flute to flute,

        dressed iation,

        in fligunnel

        the wind would pass

        to where birds were breaking open

        the dense blue air -

        and t came in.

        urned from so many journeys,

        I stayed suspended and green

        between sun and geography -

        I saings worked,

        ransmitted

        by featelegraph,

        and from above I sah,

        tiles,

        t trades,

        trousers of the foam;

        I sa all from my green sky.

        I

        their courses,

        tiny, ser

        of the small bird on fire

        he pollen.
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