The butterfly flew among the cars.
Marie Jose said to me: It has to be Chuang Tzu
On the way to New York.
But the butterfly
Did not know it was a butterfly
That dreamed to be Chaung Tzu
Or Chaung Tzu
Who dreamed to be a butterfly.
But the butterfly did not doubt:
Off it flew.
-The Obsidian Butterfly, Octavio Paz-

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