| Paul Éluard Translated by Peter Robertson |
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| An Apologia for Knowledge VI That night the most credulous eyes would deny to the point of futility, That night with nothing left to cling to, The solitary stare impaled on the blot of ink. Closer to Us Run, run to deliverance and you will find that all is there, and gather up its infinite wealth, running so fast the cord will snap at the sound a huge bird makes as it soars into the ether, the flag a speck. |
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