DIE OF NOT TO DIE – Poetry, by Paul Éluard

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Your eyes are an arbitrary income countries

where no one has ever known what it is that a glance

nor known the beauty of the eyes, beautiful stones,

the drops of water, closets beads.

Bare stones, without skeleton, O my statue.

The blinding sun holds you place mirror

and it seems to obey the evening of powers

is that my head is closed, O fallen statue.

My love and my wild tricks.

My desire is still your last support

and I will die without a fight,

my image broken my weakness and taken my bonds. ”

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