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Birds nest in my arms,
on my shoulders, behind my knees,
between my breasts there are quails,
they must think I’m a tree.
The swans think I’m a fountain,
they all come down and drink when I talk.
When sheep pass, they pass over me,
and perched on my fingers, the sparrows eat,
the ants think I’m the earth,
and men think I’m nothing.
– Gloria Fuertes
