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Despondency breaks off its course.
Anguish breaks off its course.
The vulture breaks off its flight.
.The eager light streams out,
even the ghosts take a drink.
.And our paintings see daylight,
our red beasts of the ice-age studios.
.Everything begins to look around.
We walk in the sun in hundreds.
.Each man is a half-open door
leading to a room for everyone.
.The endless ground under us.
.The water is shining among the trees.
.The lake is a window into the earth.
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