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首页The Poetry of Pablo NerudaThe Night in Isla Negra

The Night in Isla Negra

        A nig

        beat at the walls of my house.

        the sky

        the o,

        and sky and s

        in t flict.

        All nigruggle;

        nobody knohe name

        of t t keeps slowly opening

        like a languid fruit.

        So on t es to light,

        out of seethe harsh dawn,

        gna by t,

        s    by t,

        bloodstained in its sea-waser.
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