The mills ground the corn,
swelling the peasants' sacks like great goiters.

Wars weave the fabric
that the soldiers will wear,
attentive to the apple in the space of memory –
it may awaken in them a new idea of attraction.

Comfort has grown at the edge of the sky.
The angel applauds the scouts' triumph,
ready for another storm.

In the tumult of times,
the mechanisms of the soul of yesterday are revealed.

The works of writers together
will correspond to the feelings in the workshops.