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DESCRIPTION She draws near with her clouded eyes, that sculptured hand the hand that held the tiller the hand that held the pen the hand that opened in the wind, everything threatens her silence. A ripple runs from the pine-trees towards the sea plays with the breeze's humble breath and is checked by the two black Symplegades.* I opened my heart and breathed deeply! The golden fleece shivered on the sea. Hers the color the shudder and the skin hers the mountain-ridges on the horizon of my palm. I opened my heart full of images that vanished at once, the seed of Proteus. Here I gazed at the moon dyed in the blood of a young she-wolf. Spetses, August 1934 SS ...


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