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10 ʯʱˋʢ ʯʩʠ ʤʨʸʧ ʨʩʮ ʬʥ˦ ˌʣ ʯʥʠ ʷʲʸʹ ʨʩʮ ʨʸˌʥʥ ˋ ˌʣ . ʨʥʸʲʢ ʸʲʶ ʯʩʠ ˌʣ ʯʥʠ ʨʰʩʩʥʥʲʢ ʪʩʠ ʡˌʤ ˌʣ . ʲʨˌʢʬˌʢ ʯʩʠ ʨʬʣʰˋʥʥʸˋ˦ ʪˌʣ ʯʱˋʢ ʲʬˋ ʨʱˌʤ . ʨʥʬʡ ʯ‫ٷ‬ʮ ʨʰʩʸ ʯʱˋʢ ʲʬˋ ʯʩʠ . ʨʰʩʩʥʥʲʢ ʪʩʠ ʡˌʤ ˌʣ . ʯʸʲʩʥʮ ʩʣ ˝ʮʥʣ ʯʡˌʤ ʱʲ ʦʢ ʭʲʣ ʨʮʥʸʡʲʢ ʸ - ʲʰʲʸʩʥʬʸˋ˦ ʯʥʠ ʲʫˋʥʥʹ ʳʩʥʠ ʯʩʣʤ . ʱ ʯʥʠ ' ʯʸʲʤ ʬʩ˦ ʯʥʠ ʯʲʮˋʣ ʬʩ˦ ʨʷʥʷʲʢʫˌʰ ʯʡˌʤ , ʱ ʩʥʥ ' ʯʸʲʸʨ ʯʩʠ ʢʰʥʸʲʮʲʣ ʪʸʥʣ ʩʥʸ˦ ˋ ʨʩʩʢ . ʨʲʡʲʢ ʯʲʥʥʲʢ , ʯʲʥʥʲʢ ʯʸˌʶ ʯʥʠ , ʤʨʸʧ . ʯʷʲʸʹ ʲʨʶʲʬ ʩʣ ʳʩʥʠ ʨ‫ٷ‬ʸʹ ʨʶʩʠ ʯʥʠ - ʲʨˌʰ ʲʬʥ˦ ʯʡʲʬ ʯʥ˦ , ʡʩʥʨʹ ʯʩʠ ʷʩʣʰʲʷʰʩʦ . ʪˌʣ ʯʥʠ , ʨˌʢ ˌ , ‫˝ٷ‬ ˌ ʸʲʷʩʰ , ʡʩʥʬʢ ʪʩʠ : ʯʸʲʨʹ ˋ ʯʸʩʸʰˌ ʪˌʰ ʲʱʱʥʢ ʸʲʢʰʩ˦ ʨʩʮ ʬʲʥʥ ʪʩʠ ʳʩʨ ʪʲʬʣʰʲʮʥʠ ʯˋ ʯʥʠ , ʯʸʲʤʸʲʣ ʨʸˌʥʥ ʪʲʬʨʸʲʶ ʪʲʬʣʰʲʮʥʠ . 11 IN THE STREETS Here a word of terror, there one of regret. Here I cried out, there in sorrow I paused. You transformed the roads into Golgotha, and my blood runs in all the streets. Here I wept. The dank walls roared out the stern judgment at the weak and the lost while many lords and ladies looked on as the woman walked through the dusk in tears. Pleading, raging, regretting, now the last terrible note of life blares forth, sinking into the dust. And yet, O God, O Tormentor, I do believe: With dying fingers, I will yet touch a star, and I will hear an eternally profound, an infinitely tender word. ...

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