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Thus thought an oak tree
When words were there no more
The bower’s a soul shield
Planted by the road
The land is a soul field
Dug in earth to quench
The thirst that my heart yields
Once water sign is sucked
The root below to build
By bough branched hands
An embracing sky is filled
Heaven and Earth are friends
©Miroslava Odalović
poem
by
Miroslava Odalovic
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