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Rain Above the Olive Trees (excerpt)
Only rain above the olive trees can compare to all this -
when we part, the clouds enfold us us like a Swiss roll,
and leave us to the vast space of coincidence.
The teeth of the islands glimmer in the rainy sutra.
The morning with unloaded
boxes of vegetables remains behind the steamboat as it
paddles steadily
on the side of the shining rain.
The puffy hands of the clouds rise like dough,
rain falls under our eyelids as we sleep,
rain falls on the olives.