XII
seolaim ar an ngaoth iad
mo chuid féileacán – iniúchóirí
blátha atá foirfe
ní duitse iad, a chumann
músclaíonn mion-locht atrua ionat
i send them out on the wind
butterfly inspectors
flowers that are perfect
are not for You: one tiny flaw
awakens Your compassion
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