Shut not your doors to me, proud libraries,
For that which was lacking among you all, yet needed most, I bring;
A book I have made for your dear sake, soldiers,
And for you, O soul of man, and you, love of comrades;
The words of my book nothing, the life of it every-thing;
A book separate, not link'd with the rest, nor felt by the intellect;
But you will feel every word,
O Libertad ! arm'd Libertad !
It shall pass by the intellect to swim the sea, the air,
With joy with you, O soul of man.
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