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But who emptied your shoes of sandWhen you had to get up, to die?The sand which Israel gathered,Its nomad sand?Burning Sinai sand,Mingled with throats of nightingales,Mingled with wings of butterflies…
The most terrible thing of all, somehow, was that at Brzezinka the sun was bright and warm, the rows of graceful poplars were lovely to look upon and on the grass near the gates children played.
It…