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A Street in the Year 1930 Shop windows. Monuments. (Like a gentleman, a crimped Rousseau.) The metropolitan traffic chases and swims, The golden traffic from above, And the dark traffic from below. The street pounds with noise like waves. A red ladies' hat And a top hat like a bottle, black. Like a question mark on the sidewalk, a hunchback. And a sandwich-board man with long ears—made up as the fool. And by a wall stands a man, limp and dull, With hat and stick, He almost looks like Charlie Chaplin, Dressed in cheap old clothes, Without a destination. The slits of his eyes are hungry and keen. (It's bright all around.) He's received a harsh letter from death, Written in blood on the cobblestone street, With a postscript About dying of hunger in the damp cellar. He reads the letter for all with a hungry gaze. They all hear: It is written in blood on the cobblestones, With a postscript About dying of hunger. Paris, 1931 233 8 px tr-?Ti px s yojrn pK H ^3 |yr- y p V ^n px pK H ps 1932 234 ...

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