Published: Thu, October 12, 2017
World | By Tasha Manning

Solitary dog ​​sculptor: 08/11/13

Solitary dog ​​sculptor: 08/11/13

I am a sincere man ...

I am a sincere man
From where the palm grows,
And before I die I want
To throw my verses of the soul.

P> I come from everywhere,
And everywhere I go:
Art I am among the arts,
In the mountains, I am.

I know the strange names
Of grass and flowers, And of deceitful deceit, And of sublime sorrows.

I have seen in the dark night
Rain on my head
The rays of pure fire
Of the divine beauty.

Wings born born vi on the shoulders
Of beautiful women:
And leave the debris,
Flying butterflies.

I've seen a man live
With the dagger to the side,
Without ever saying the name
Of the one who has killed him.

A reflection,
Twice I saw the soul, two:
When the poor old man died,
When she said goodbye.

I shivered once -in the grate,
At the entrance of the vineyard,

When the barbarian bee
He stung my girl's forehead.

I once enjoyed, in such a way
That I enjoyed what ever: -When
The sentence of my death
He read the warden crying.

I hear a sigh, across the land and the sea,
And it's not a sigh, -is
That my son will wake up.

Presentation Application Form - UC Berkeley Urban Bee Lab
We are very pleased with the growing public interest in native bees, and we try to accommodate as many of these talks as possible. Presentations scheduled outside of normal working hours (MF, 9 am-5 pm) are held on a personal basis by laboratory staff.

If they say that of the jeweler
Take the jewel better,
I take a sincere friend
And I put love aside.

I have seen the eagle hurt
Fly to the serene blue,
And die in his den
The snake of poison.

I know well that when the world
Gives, livid, to rest,
About the deep silence
The gentle stream murmurs.

I have placed the daring hand,
Of horror and yawning joy,
On the star off
That fell in front of my door.

Hidden in me Brave chest
The pain that hurts me:
The son of a slave town
Live for him, shut up and die. Everything is beautiful and constant, Everything is music and reason,
And everything, like the diamond,
Before light is coal.

I call, and I understand, and I take away
The pomp of the rhymer:
I hang from a withered tree
My little doctor.

Like this: