“Let me gather the light that I saw in the square Bain, city of my heart And the jewel-haired maidens who walked with me there Bain, city of my heart. Oh the arches, the lemons, the cinnamon flowers! Bain, city of my heart What we abandon must cease to be ours, Bain, city of my heart. Bain, the Gilded House, the Incomparable City, splits the southern beaches with the glinting of her domes. On either side the sands stretch out, pale, immaculate, marked with graceful palms whose slende...r figures give no shade. Those sands, lashed by rain in the winter, sun-glazed in the summer, give the coast the look of a girl in white, the Olondrian color of mourning. Yet as one approaches the harbor this illusion is stripped away: the city asserts itself, Bain the exuberant, the exultant. And the vastness of the harbor mouth with its ancient walls of stone, with its seemingly endless array of ships, blocks out the southern sands. From this raucous, magnificent port the Olondrian fleet once set out, adorned with scarlet flags, to conquer the land of Evmeni; from this port, ever since the most ancient times, “before the Beginning of Time,”MoreLessRead More Read Less
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