Let us go, Sisters.
Across the courtyard
Limpid air reflects the sun
Pairs and groups in shadows
Market stalls, foreign traders,
 almost microscopical
Beyond the boulevard:
Silver string of the canal,
hieroglyph across the hills
tiny people, remorseful angels,
almost insignificant
Old ivory,
the blood still in shame
See their hands doing things
People walking to the past
— far fewer memories that way.
– Let us go, Sisters, let us go.
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