Falcon flies,
It abhors flap,
It glides with air,
find wind, circular
it kisses its bride,
on her impervious nostril,
descends to ground for a kill,
it can smell the wind in ellipse.
in forked wing-let
concave-vex-cave-vex-cave wing
over ten million years evolved,
and that taming the wind,
maddens on phylogeny of falcondae
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I would like to translate this poem