Dark night at Sule pagoda
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a river that flowed
from the savage jungle
into the stifling city
and its leprous streets,
and a white hotel for whites,
and a golden pagoda for the golden people.
That's what
went on
and didn't go on.
Rangoon, steps stained
by the spitters
of betel juice.
Pablo Neruda (Translated by Alistair Reid)
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