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Fertile and brave circle

As the Centaur make

Seeds to the sun

Bestow

Because the industry of cosmos

Is us

Horizontal and vertical

In our own words of spontaneity

Look at those messengers

Of universes and unknown landscapes

Those pigeons with bloody spurs

The mark they leave in the snow of time

Strength sopped in darkness

Those messengers

From the boundaries of stars

Bringing greetings from the ultimate creator

Ultimate, the one

Who out of nothing Makes entire galaxies

Thing riot written in a single book

Thing forbidden even to be mentioned