Butterflies cannot love them
They treat plants with honed blades
They cut any initiative leafing-out suppling
and blossoming rose
Butterflies cannot love machines
They are vicious for they throw dust on lantanas
Butterflies cannot love them for they furnish iron fences in our garden
Nature is virtuous
Rain washes down petal-dusts
the sun seals and sears grass-wounds
the evening breeze scours the stains from heart
nature nurtures the blossoming roses
My cute lantana!
if the maschines cut your body some day,
don't be sad please
for their blades can never reach your spirit's hem
Better you stay here
by the drawn curtains
than to sit by the wired edifices
than to get mouth to mouth with many mean winds out there
Better, you smile with your pristine spirit
Better you dance right here
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