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I would bathe myself in strangeness: These comforts heaped upon me, smother1 me! I burn, I scald so for the new, New friends, new faces, Places! Oh to be out of this, This that is all I wanted - save the new. And you, Love, you the much, the more desired! Do I not loathe2 all walls, streets, stones, All mire3, mist, all fog, All ways of traffic? You, I wold have flow over me like water, Oh, but far out of this! Grass, and low fields, and hills, And sun, Oh, sun enough! Out, and alone, among some Alien people! 点击收听单词发音
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