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15 Quid πλατανών opacissimus?* Sleep wrapped you in green leaves like a tree you breathed like a tree in the quiet light in the limpid spring I watched your face: eyelids closed, eyelashes brushing the water. In the soft grass my fingers found your fingers I held your pulse a moment and felt your heart's pain in another place. Under the plane-tree, near the water, among laurel sleep moved you and scattered you around me, near me, without my being able to touch the whole of you— one as you were with your silence; seeing your shadow grow and diminish, lose itself in the other shadows, in the other world that let you go yet held you back. The life that they gave us to live, we lived. Pity those who wait with such patience lost in the black laurel under the heavy plane-trees and those, alone, who speak to cisterns and wells and drown in the voice's circles. 20 Pity the companion who shared our privation and our sweat and plunged into the sun like a crow beyond the ruins without hope of enjoying our reward. Give us, outside sleep, serenity. 21 ...


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