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■ The oak
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From among so many ordeals arrived against me, hordes,
I’m keeping pains from that I’m not capable to divorce; My whole soul is inside them as sounds inside the cord That still alive vibrate the violin while broke. Alike the silkworm ceaselessly I wove Around you, from poetry, a magical cocoon; But you, the splendid butterfly, broke it and flew anew From the frail jail guarded with jealousy. Today, great poisons that I accustomed with, Your scorn, the treason, are all for me so need; Insofar established into my flesh, my life to keep, How long their absence would mean my kill, Because the love and faith are overturned, By a sorcery, up side down and damned! Tuesday, 14 December 1954
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