The Lark
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The Lark

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A poem

Taylor BrandonUnsplash

Present omnipresent,
sprouted from seed;
inhospitable unconscious
who wanders
fleeting convalescent
no suggestive future.

Your failed days
without substance, denied;
they attack spitefully
living joy;
they are opaque mirrors
absent from us,
like the hidden corner
where it lies dismantled.


Presente omnipresente,
brotado de simiente;
inhóspito inconsciente
que deambula
fugaz convaleciente
sin futuro sugerente.

Sus días fracasados
sin sustancia, denegados;
atentan rencorosos
la alegría viva;
son espejos opacados
ausente de nosotros,
como el recóndito rincón
dónde yace desmantelado.

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Esteban Giancaterino

Esteban Giancaterino


The true key to happiness is not to have it all; but in desiring nothing - Seneca