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My Harness Put the old pen in harness And hitch up the old clogs. Give the dry wheels a smudge of grease It's time to take to the road. The day is already finished, And that is fortunate. Each of my days is always A relentless, difficult fight. At dusk, the final station And the final ray of light. Sobbing on the battlefield, The general in defeat. Ah, my lovely weapons In the bloody fight, A schoolteacher's pointer Against an iron spade.210 This pair of clogs, my own, are As if by witchcraft fashioned. They stand, harnessed and strong, Like Mendele's eternal wagon.211 They stand, soiled and solid,212 Near my shattered bed, They stand stubborn and gallant Like a fool who's lost a bet. Again, I take up my wooden pointer And hitch up my strange team. I'm led by the hand to the roadway By some merit, some phantom, some charm.213 433 pT •|yt p a -pT Bpnay BX .]IT H r-^a 7ix ]ix fw pa B^T TX TIDV ps px onynrst^ p§ DXX DJTT pnya^x B^ jyp 7X ?riB oxn /-nyansn ^IB oxn ntoya x ^x: rwya x riB oxn ,nBD ps "n DjrV Bixa ix ,Txiys ,"BW B ^ 3 nan x pyn ,n^n ,BDJJ?P 434 ...

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