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30 ʥʣ ʵʰˋʬʢ ʯʹʩʸˋʡʸˋʡ ʯʩʠ ʸʩʣ ʪʸʥʣ ʩʩʢ ʪʩʠ , ʨˌʨʹ ʸʲʨʢʩʦˋʡ ˋ ʪʸʸʣ ʩʥʥ . ʣʬˌʢ ʯ‫ٷ‬ʮ ʯʥ˦ ʯʷʲ ʩʣ ʯʢˌʸʨ ʪʲʬʸʲʢʲʰ ʸʩ˦ - ʯʷʩʨʹʲʢ , ʯʲʮʥʬʡʰˌʮ ʯʥʠ ʱʲʥʥˋ˝ ʨʩʮ ʬʨʰˋʮ ʯʨʩʩʰʲʢʱʥʠ . ʨ‫ٷ‬ʬʱʢʩʸʷ ʯʲʩʩʢ ʸʩʮ ʸʲʨʰʩʤ , ʯʣʸʲʥʥʹ ʲʶʸʥʷ ʩʣ ʨʩʮ ʷʩʣʰʶʩʬʡ , ʩʰʷ ʯʥʠ ʱʮʲʸˌ ʲʨʲʷˋʰ ; ʸ˝ ʨʰʥʥ‫ٷ‬ʬ ʯʱ‫ٷ‬ʥʥ ʯʩʠ ʸʲʨʱʩ ; ʯʶʸˋʥʥʹ ʯʩʠ ʯʨʲˌ˝ ʸˋʹ ʲʶʰˋʢ ˋ ʸʥ˝ʸʥ˝ ʯʥʠ ʣ‫ٷ‬ʦ ; ʩʣ ʱʰʷʥʸ ʲʸʲʩʩʦ ʳʩʥʠ ʯʢˌʸʨ ʯʥʠ ʯʣʰˋ˦ʬʲʤ ʲʨʩʩʸʡ ʯ˝ʮˋʨʹ ʱʲ ʯʥʠ ʣʰˋʬʮʩʩʤ ʯ‫ٷ‬ʮ ʯʥ˦ ʸʲʨʲʢ ʲʷʩʣʩʩʸ˦ , ʬʢʩʩ˦ ʲʷʩʡʸˋ˦ ʯʥʠ ʱʲ˝ʬˋʮ ʲʷʩʬʩʩʤ ʩʣ , ʱˌʥʥ ʯʸʲʨʰʥʠ ʣʬʩʥʥ ʯʥʠ ʱʩʦ ʳʩʥʠ ʯʲ‫ٷ‬ʸʹ ʬʮʩʤ ʯʣʮʲʸ˦ . ʸʩʣ ʪʸʥʣ ʩʩʢ ʪʩʠ , ʨˌʨʹ ʸʲʨʢʩʦˋʡ ˋ ʪʸʥʣ ʩʥʥ . ʬʮʩʤ ʭʥʶ ʯʲʮˌʰ ʯ‫ٷ‬ʮ ʭˋʬ˦ ʯʣʰʸʲʶʸˋ˦ ˋ ʩʥʥ ʯ˦ʸˋʥʥ ʯʲʮʩʨʹ ʲʣʰʲʬʡʥʩ , ʷʩʸʥʶ ʯʥʠ ʯʲʷʰʥ˦ ʲʣʰʶʰˋʨ ʯʩʠ ʨʸʲʨʩʬ˝ʹʲʶ ʸʲ ʨʬˋ˦ . ʯʣʢˋʸˋʮʹ ʯʢʩʬ ʱʰ˦ʩʥʤ ʯʩʠ , ʯʣʬˋʸʲʮʲ , ʯʲʰʩʡʥʸ , ˌʸʢʲʢʱʩʥʠ ʨʱˌʤ ʥʣ ʲʫʬʲʥʥ ʹʩʰʲ˦ʩʨ ʯ‫ٷ‬ʣ ʯʥ˦ ʯʡ , ʨʩʮ ʨ˝ʲʬʷʲʢʮʥʸˋ ʪˌʰ ʲʬˋ ʣʸʲ ʯ‫ٷ‬ʣ , ʨʥʬʡ ʯʥʠ , ʸʲʶ ʯʥʠ . ˌ ʸʲʡˌ , ʯʱˋʢ ʲʨʩʩʸʣʲʢ ʯʥʠ ʲʬʲʷʰʥʨ ʲʰʲʩ , ʯʨʲʸʨˋʡ ʥʶ ʠʸʥʮ ʡˌʤ ʪʩʠ ʲʫʬʲʥʥ . ʲʰʲʩ ʸʩʣ ʯʩʠ ʨʩʩʷʬʩʨʹ ʲʷʩʣʲʫˋʥʥ , ʯʲʢʰʥʦʲʢ ʨʩʰ ʬˌʮ ʯʩʩʷ ʨˌʤ ʯʲʮˌʰ ʯ‫ٷ‬ʮ ʸʲʫʬʲʥʥ ʯʩʠ ... ʯʥʠ ʱʰʨˌʹ , ʥ ʨʩʰ ʸʩʮ ʸˋ˦ ʪʩʦ ʯʢʩʩʡ ʱˌʥ ... ʨˌʨʹ ʲʨʢʩʦˋʡ ʯ‫ٷ‬ʮ ʨʱʩʡ ʯʥʠ . ʪʩʠ ʡˌʤ ʯʲʬ˝ʮʲʨ ʲʨʱʩʥʥ ʲʷʩʨʲʮʥʠ ʲʰ‫ٷ‬ʣ ʯʩʠ ʸʲʨʲʢ ʲʰ‫ٷ‬ʮ ʨʬʲʨʹʲʢʷʲʥʥˋ . ʣʩʬ ʱˌʣ ʯʥʠ , ʨʱʥʥ˒ʸ˝ ʥʣ ʱˌʥʥ ʯˋ ʨʩʮ ʯʲʢʰʩʦ ʩʩʦ ʸʠ˦ ʬʥʷ ʸʲʫʩʦʮʥʠ , ʲʡʩʬ ʯʥʠ ʯʥʦ ʩʥʥ ʦʩʠ . YOU I pass through you in barbarous splendour, as through a conquered city. Four little pygmies carry my train, gold embroidered with peacocks and poppies. Behind me march the warriors flashing their short swords, arms and knees bare. Priests in white linen, an entire troop of poets in black and purple silk; and broad, stomping elephants carrying on their backs the joyous gods of my native land, the holy monkeys and the colorful birds that shrill sweet and wild under alien skies. I pass through you as through a conquered city. My name is hurled heavenward like a raging flame by jubilant voices only to fall back and crack into dancing sparks. Your jewels lie in heaps, emeralds and rubies you dug out of your depths—your own earth—your blood and your sorrow still clinging to them. But, oh, those gloomy, crooked streets on which I fear to tread. That watchful stillness in you, in which my name never sang . . . and shadows that do not bend toward me. . . For you are my conquered city. In your sad and empty temples I placed my gods. And that song you tried to sing to them in uncertain voice is like sunshine and love. 31 32 ʥʥ ʲʮˋʦʰʩʩʠ ʯʥʠ ʲʬʩʨʹ ʲʰʲʩ ʸʲʡˌ ʯʲʬʷʰʩ . ʯʲʦʲʢ ʹʩʰʸʲʨʶʰʩ˦ ʸʲʣ ʯʩʠ ʡˌʤ ʪʩʠ ʯʢʩʥʠ ʲʷʩʣʰʨˌ˝ʹ . ʸʲʱʲʮ ˋ ʯʥ˦ ʷʱˋʩʬʡ ʭʲʣ ʯʲʦʲʢ ʡˌʤ ʪʩʠ . ʩʥʥ ʨʱˌʤ ʥʣ ʯʲʥʥ ʯʥʠ ʨʫˋʰ ʸʲʣ ʯʩʠ ʯʲʮʥʰʲʢʮʥʸˋ ʪʩʮ ʨʰʲʤ ʨʰʦʩʥʨ ʨʩʮ , ʯʲʥʥʲʢ ʨʰʲʤ ʨʰʦʩʥʨ ʲʬˋ ʯʩʠ ʦʩʠ ʢʰʥʸʲʨʹʲʶ , 33 But in those silent, lonely corners I saw mocking eyes through the darkness. I saw the glint of a knife. When you embraced me as with a thousand hands in the night, in all those thousand hands was destruction. ...

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