No. 5
If you see a hill of foam
It is my poetry that you see:
My poetry is a mountain
And is also a feather fan.
My poems are like a dagger
Sprouting flowers from the hilt:
My poetry is like a fountain
Sprinkling streams of coral water.
My poems are light green
And flaming red;
My poetry is a wounded deer
Looking for the forest's sanctuary.
My poems please the brave:
My poems, short and sincere,
Have the force of steel
Which forges swords.
Jose Marti
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