About Stella

[...] everything was covered in blackness and pitch, a great brightness, thunder and lightning; and I raised my hands and my eyes to pray, and behold, at the chimney, a tall woman with a dress as black as a hare's blood, sparks flickering and fading; and with a voice that appeared to me to be conquering the turmoil of war, began:
At dawn I took
The path of the Sun,
The lyre hung on my shoulder,
And from where the day breaks,
To where the light sinks,

I have seen no place more glorious.

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