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Its This Way

 I stand in the advancing light,
my hands hungry, the world beautiful.
My eyes can't get enough of the trees-- they're so hopeful, so green.
A sunny road runs through the mulberries, I'm at the window of the prison infirmary.
I can't smell the medicines-- carnations must be blooming nearby.
It's this way: being captured is beside the point, the point is not to surrender.

by Nazim Hikmet
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