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Her religious leaders were more pure than snow. They were more white than milk. Their bodies were more red than coral. They were more beautiful than sapphire. Now they look more black than dark ashes. No one knows who they are in the streets. Their skin has dried up on their bones. It has become as dry as wood. Those who are killed with the sword are better off than those killed with hunger. For they waste away, suffering because they have no fruits of the field.

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