“Open, sweet mother, your incorruptible heart
and embrace your poor, black children. Squeeze us, mother, squeeze us. Naked, naked, naked, naked, naked, naked, as if they had been wronged, as if they had been defeated, coming into your bosom. Give us your blessing and erase all our wounds with a warm kiss. …. …. She didn’t want to see her children and she poured every complaint into her heart. They hugged each other tightly and their kisses the crossers took them high in their clouds and they painted them with lightning, and the rays took them of the sun, which illuminated them, and kept them hopeful.
Blessed thrice, blessed is the day πwe have cursed your bosom, sweet sweet mother!
Aristotle Valaoritis (1864)
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