"The trees are the fossilized dialogue of the wind,
That deposited the balance of his soul.
This wind that, from being Southern,
Bend the vertical dimension,
And furiously enrolled it in the surreal creeping foliage.
Screaming lengas .
Madness came in the tree and it lay down like a wave.
Breaker of clenched branches, pain of the posture.
You are called "Banderas", you are consenting flags.
Enslaved and fatalistic,
Trees are a bow to the feathered caress of condor."
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