A o desfalecerem, como feridos, pelas ruas da cidade, ao exalarem as suas almas no regaço de suas mães, perguntam a elas: Onde está o trigo e o vinho?
To their mothers they say, `Where corn and wine?' In their becoming feeble as a pierced one In the broad places of the city, In their soul pouring itself out into the bosom of their mothers.
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