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Neither king nor law, neither peace nor war, Defines with profile and being This opaque glow of the earth That is Portugal in its sadness — A glow without light and without ardor Like that which encloses a will-o'-the-wisp.
No one knows what they want. No one knows what soul they have, Nor what is evil nor what is good. (What distant desire cries nearby?) Everything is uncertain and definitive. Everything is scattered, nothing is whole. Oh Portugal, today you are fog...
It is time!
Valete, Fratres
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DeBaser says
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