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“A bough of fruit falls from the sun on your dark garment. The great roots of night grow suddenly from your soul, and things that hide in you come out again so that a blue and pallid people, your newly born, takes nourishment.” — Pablo Neruda
A bough of fruit falls from the sun on your dark garment.
The great roots of night
grow suddenly from your soul,
and things that hide in you come out again
so that a blue and pallid people,
your newly born, takes nourishment.