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The sea
smiles far-off.
Spume-teeth,
sky-lips.

'What do you sell, troubled child,
child with naked *******?'

'Sir, I sell
salt-waters of the sea.'

'What do you carry, dark child,
mingled with your blood?'

'Sir, I carry
salt-waters of the sea.'

'These tears of brine
where do they come from, mother?'

'Sir, I cry
salt-waters of the sea.'

'Heart, this deep bitterness,
where does it rise from?'

'So bitter, the salt-waters
of the sea!'

The sea
smiles far-off.
Spume-teeth.
Sky-lips.
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