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Her princes were purer than snow,
    they were whiter than milk;
their bodies were more ruddy than rubies,
    sapphire their appearance.
Now their appearance is blacker than soot,
    they are not recognized in the streets;
their skin has shriveled on their bones,
    it has become dry like wood.
Happier were the victims of the sword
    than the victims of famine;
they have pined away, very hungry
    for the crops of my field.

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