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272 ʨʱʩʸʡ ʲʰʸˌʮʸˋʮ ʲʨʬˋʷ ʩʣ ʨʩʮ ʩʦ ʨʱʩʸʡ ʲʰʸˌʮʸˋʮ ʲʨʬˋʷ ʩʣ ʨʩʮ ʩʦ ʩʣ ʨʩʮ ʯʥʠ ʨʰʲʤ ʲʷʩʨʫʩʬ ʲʬˌʮʹ , ʨʣʰʲʥʥʹʸˋ˦ ʨʩʩʷʰʩʩʹ ʸʩʠ ʨˌʤ ʩʦ ʨʱʩʮ ʳʩʥʠ , ʨʹʩʰʸˌʢ ʳʩʥʠ . ʨʬˌʥʥʲʢ ʸʹ˦ʠ ʱʲ ʨˌʤ ʩʦ , ʨʱʥʬʢʲʢ ʸʹ˦ʠ ʷʩʬʢʮʥʠ ʥʶ , ʯ‫˝ٷ‬ ʯʥ˦ ʱʸʲʱʲʮ ʯʡʩʦ ʥʶ ʯ‫ٷ‬ʥʥ ʯʷʩʬʩʩʤ ʱʰʡʲʬ ʭʲʣ ʯʱˌʢʸˋ˦ ʯʥʠ ʨʱʩʮ ʳʩʥʠ , ʨʹʩʰʸˌʢ ʳʩʥʠ . ʲʶ ˋ ʨʩʮ ʩʦ ʨʢʩʬ ʨʶʩʠ ʨʫʩʦʲʢ ʯʫˌʸʡ . ʢ‫ٷ‬ʨʹ ʩʣ ʨʦˌʬʸˋ˦ ʨʱ‫ٷ‬ʢ ʸʲʨʣʰʲʹʲʢ ʸʲʣ . ˦ ʡʸˋ ʸʲʩʩʢ‫ٷ‬ , ʢ‫ٷ‬ʥʥʹ ʯʥʠ ʺʥʰʥʮʧʸ ʡˌʤ — ʨʹʩʰʸˌʢ ʢˌʦ . 273 SHE OF THE COLD MARBLE BREASTS She of the cold marble breasts and the slender, light hands— she squandered her beauty on rubbish, on nothing. Perhaps she wanted it, perhaps lusted after it: the unhappiness, the seven knives of anguish to spill life’s holy wine on rubbish, on nothing. Now she lies with shattered face. Her ravaged spirit has abandoned its cage. Passerby, have pity, be silent— say nothing. ...

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