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Nausicaa 370
O, you who knew
The new want
The shoulder of Jerusalem
O, you who discovered the history of the garden
The tiny happy lovers
Repeating the same charades
The cross illusions of a vague and unstill Venus
O, you who came from June today
And still had sores in your mouth
From eating circus apples.
How distant the avenues of fools seem to you now.
You are a phantom child of falling night
Brought in among the sunflowers and wretched want
How quietly the trees wait for the sun.
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