| Silence dissolves all objects
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| It is not related to any counterpart which belongs to the mind
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| Silence has nothing to do with mind
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| It cannot be defined
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| It can be felt directly because it is our nearness
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| Silence is restriction
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| It is feeling without a feeler
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| Silence needs no intermediary
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| Sound which comes from silence is music
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| Within these four walls only a number exists
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| Which does not progress
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| Which slowly will wish more and more for death
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| But suddenly my conscience awakes
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| And I see this tide with no heartbeat
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| Only the pulse of machines
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| And the military showing their midwives' faces full of sweetness
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| How much humanity exposed to hunger, cold, panic, pain
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| Moral pressures, terror and insanity?
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| What horror the face of fascism creates!
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| They carry out their plans with knife-like precision
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| For them blood equals medals
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| Slaughter is an act of heroism
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| How hard it is to sing when I must sing of horror
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| Horror which I am living; |
| horror which I am dying
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| To see myself among so much and so many moments of infinity
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| In which silence and screams are the end of my song |