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...when Giordano
climbed to his burning
he could not find
in any human tongue
words for mankind,
mankind who live on....
Those dying here, the lonely
forgotten by the world,
our tongue becomes for them
the language of an ancient planet....
--"Campo dei Fiori," Warsaw, 1943. Czesław Miłosz (1911-2004). From Selected Poems, 1931-2004, translated by Miłosz and Robert Hass.
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