The King of Asini

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We looked all around the citadel for the whole morning
starting from the shaded side there where the sea
green and without reflection, breast of the slaughtered
peacock,
welcomed us like time without any chasm in it.
The veins of the rock descended from high up
twisted vines, naked, multi-branched turning alive
at the touch of water, as the eye following them
struggled to escape the tedious rocking
of sea growing slowly-slowly weaker.

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