Birds are singing of bright colors and hot sun
In el sombra it is slow and quiet
I do not know what to say or do.
Since you are speaking a different language than mine,
I will listen for a while.
The quiet grates on me,
I long for action.
Like a child, I do not understand.
The rain will come
It will be soft at first
It will become harder
It will change everything you thought you knew.
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