You who are close to my heart always, I welcome you, ancient coffins of stone, which the cheerful water of Roman days still flows through, like a wandering song. Or those other ones that are open wide like the eyes of a happily waking shepard -with silence and bee-suck nettle inside, from which ecstatic butterflies flittered; everything that has been wrestled from doubt I welcome-the mouths that burst open after long knowledge of what it is to be mute. Do we know this, my friends, or don`t we know this? Both are formed by the hesitant hour in the deep calm of the human face. Translated by Stephen MitchellSourceThe script ran 0.001 seconds.
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