Donde termina el arco iris, en tu alma o en el horizonte? Where does the rainbow end, in your soul or on the horizon?
The white light of truth, in traversing the many sided transparent soul of the poet, is refracted into iris-hued poetry.
You can see the weakness of a man right through his iris.
The world, like a great iris of an even more gigantic eye, which has also just opened and stretched out to encompass everything, stared back at him.
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