From the land to the sea, 

There are stretches of olive trees growing from cinders 

And a watch of nightingales humming Persian poetry,

Drifting skyward, looking for the big man who would perhaps lend an ear.

Atop the clouds, there's an Epicurean paradox 

Instead of the big man. 

Head cradled in his hands, he witnesses pirates from plundered docks 

Ravage his gold-stricke...

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