The scent of gasoline crickets Vladimir Holan Poor people wait by the border and look hopefully at the other side The scent of gasoline crickets skylarks sing the abridged version of a hymn Both sides of the border face east The north is east And the south is east One car holds a giant globe showing only oceans A little girl in an ancient Fiat 125 carefully does homework in a green ruled notebook — there are borders everywhere
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