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This poem is taken from PN Review 37, Volume 10 Number 5, March - April 1984.

Listen Iain Crichton Smith
Listen

Listen, I have flown through darkness towards joy,
I have put the mossy stones away from me
and the thorns, the thistles, the brambles,
I have swum upward like a fish.

through the black wet earth, the twined roots
which insanely fight each other
in a grave which creates a treasure house
...


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