| I count the nights, the sistrum sounds . . . Death, thy victory, Death, thy victory . . . The rubber plant is free. |
From the heart of dawn Thou sinister albatross. (The rubber plant is free . . . .) Death thy victory. |
And the linden trees quiver, I count the nights, the sistrum sounds, The hoopoe awaits me, And the linden trees quiver. ~Umberto Eco, Foucault's Pendulum |
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A slightly less hermetic version of the following generator. | |||