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The house where I was born (09)

Written by: Yves Bonnefoy | Biography
 And then the day came
When I heard the extraordinary lines in Keats,
The evocation of Ruth “when, sick for home,
She stood in tears amid the alien corn.
” I did not need to search for the meaning Of these words, For it was in me since childhood, I had only to recognize and to love it When it came back from the depths of my life.
What could I take From the evasive maternal presence If not the feeling of exile and tears That clouded that gaze searching to find In things close by the place forever lost?



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