Mention497611

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so:text How can I live in this country Where the foot knocks against The unburied bones of kin? I hear voices, see smiles. I cannot Write anything; five hands Seize my pen and order me to write The story of their lives and deaths. Was I born to become a ritual mourner? I want to sing of festivities, The greenwood into which Shakespeare Often took me. Leave To poets a moment of happiness, Otherwise your world will perish. (en)
so:isPartOf https://en.wikiquote.org/wiki/Czes%C5%82aw_Mi%C5%82osz
so:description Rescue (1945) (en)
qkg:hasContext qkg:Context245394
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