![]() ![]() With the voices singing in our ears, saying The summer palaces on slopes, the terraces,Īnd running away, and wanting their liquor and women,Īnd the night-fires going out, and the lack of shelters,Īnd the cities dirty and the towns unfriendlyĪnd the villages dirty and charging high prices:Īt the end we preferred to travel all night, Over two pavingstones, passes from chair to chair.Īnd the camels galled, sore-footed, refractory, Like a breeze with enough strength to carry one dry leaf The half, the quarter, a mere smattering of what we went through! Oh, if I were to begin, if I were to begin to tell you There was always, always a fire in this hearth.Īnd in that lumber-room whole generations have been housed and fed. ![]() (And who can divine His purposes?) even then When the black wings passed over the rooftops, Grief must have its term? Guilt too, then.Īnd it seems there is no limit to the resourcefulness of recollection. How you towered over him in the narrow cage.īut come. With a smile like thin gruel, and never too much to say. You were asked please to ring, and he would come down in the lift Your uncle's grave informed you that he lived in the third floor, left. Professor Sarnagel was buried with four degrees, two associate membershipsĪnd instructions to tradesmen to use the back entrance. #Jana dil se door star plus youtube 3 jula skin'Doctor Gliedschirm, skin specialist, surgeries 14-16 hours or by appointment.' The smell of fresh earth, the improvised crossesĪnd all the impossible directions in brass and enamel. So the squares and parks were filled with the eloquence of young cemeteries: They unscrewed the name-plates from the shattered doorways There were no cities waiting for the victims. The workmen are dismantling the houses of the dead.īut when so many had died, so many and at such speed, The bus is waiting, and on the upper terraces Tending the nightlights and replacing the chrysanthemums The better that these bent figures who flutter among the graves ![]() The better for the young man, that he should move at liberty between the armchairs, The better for the widow, that she should not live in fear of surprise, Nothing more need be said, and it is better that way. The priest has sealed it on behalf of all the rest. They mayor has signed it on behalf of the freemasonry. It is like a solemn pact between the survivors. When the boiled shirts gather at the gravesideĪnd a leering waistcoast approaches the rostrum. To get together and forget the old times.Īs on those special days, ladies and gentlemen, How comforting it is, once or twice a year, His tongue still searching between his teeth. Here comes the driver, flicking a toothpick into the gutter, The hideous bridesmaids, it is natural that you should resent themīut that will pass, and the cemetery is not far. The way you clasp your flowers and give a little tug at your veil. Which stands on the hill opposite, with gleaming pediments,Īs vivid as this charming square, your home.Īre you shy? You should be. To take you to the city of your ancestors Today you take your place in the Widow's Shuttle. Yesterday the very furniture seemed to reproach you. You will find out that you are not alone in the enterprise. ![]() What you must go on forgetting all your life.Īnd with any luck oblivion should discover a ritual. It is what you have forgotten, what you must forget. ![]()
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