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The cartwheels rush,
quivering.
What is their burden?
Shoes, shivering.
The cart is like
a great hall:
the shoes crushed together
as though at a ball.
A wedding? A party?
Have I gone blind?
Who…
If we should lack nothing else than veils, it would be all right.
May peace and healthy days be your lot always; to you, my much beloved daughter, may you live long, you who are pious and virtuous…