Translation from a great poem by Jose Marti (this is just a bit of it, the beginning is much more famous than this part). But this is the part that speaks to me today:
And a newcomer to none:
I am art among the arts,
With the mountains I am one.
I know how to name and class
All the strange flowers that grow;
I know every blade of grass,
Fatal lie and sublime woe.
I have seen through dead of night
Upon my head softly fall,
Rays formed of the purest light
From beauty celestial.
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