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Часть текста: So many stones have been thrown at me That I don't fear them any longer Like elegant tower the westerner stands free Among tall towers, the taller. I'm grateful to their builders - so be gone Their sadness and their worry, go away, Early from here I can see the dawn And here triumphant lives the sun's last ray. And frequently into my room's window The winds from northern seas begin to blow And pigeon from my palms eats wheat.. The pages that I did not complete Divinely light she is and calm, Will finish Muse's suntanned arm.
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