B U R E A U O F P U B L I C S E C R E T S
The original Spanish:
En esto, descubrieron treinta o cuarenta molinos de viento que hay en aquel campo, y así como don Quijote los vio, dijo a su escudero:
“La ventura va guiando nuestras cosas mejor de lo que acertáramos a desear, porque ves allí, amigo Sancho Panza, donde se descubren treinta, o pocos más, desaforados gigantes, con quien pienso hacer batalla y quitarles a todos las vidas, con cuyos despojos comenzaremos a enriquecer; que ésta es buena guerra, y es gran servicio de Dios quitar tan mala simiente de sobre la faz de la tierra.”
¿Qué gigantes? dijo Sancho Panza.
Aquellos que allí ves, respondió su amo,de los brazos largos, que los suelen tener algunos de casi dos leguas.”
Mire vuestra merced, respondió Sancho, que aquellos que allí se parecen no son gigantes, sino molinos de viento, y lo que en ellos parecen brazos son las aspas, que, volteadas del viento, hacen andar la piedra del molino.”
Bien parece, respondió don Quijote, que no estás cursado en esto de las aventuras: ellos son gigantes; y si tienes miedo, quítate de ahí, y ponte en oración en el espacio que yo voy a entrar con ellos en fiera y desigual batalla.”
Y, diciendo esto, dio de espuelas a su caballo Rocinante, sin atender a las voces que su escudero Sancho le daba, advirtiéndole que, sin duda alguna, eran molinos de viento, y no gigantes, aquellos que iba a acometer. Pero él iba tan puesto en que eran gigantes que ni oía las voces de su escudero Sancho ni echaba de ver, aunque estaba ya bien cerca, lo que eran; antes iba diciendo en voces altas:
Non fuyades, cobardes y viles criaturas, que un solo caballero es el que os acomete.”
Levantóse en esto un poco de viento y las grandes aspas comenzaron a moverse, lo cual visto por don Quijote, dijo:
Pues, aunque mováis más brazos que los del gigante Briareo, me lo habéis de pagar.”
Y diciendo esto, y encomendándose de todo corazón a su señora Dulcinea, pidiéndole que en tal trance le socorriese, bien cubierto de su rodela, con la lanza en el ristre, arremetió a todo el galope de Rocinante y embistió con el primero molino que estaba delante; y, dándole una lanzada en el aspa, la volvió el viento con tanta furia que hizo la lanza pedazos, llevándose tras sí al caballo y al caballero, que fue rodando muy maltrecho por el campo. Acudió Sancho Panza a socorrerle, a todo el correr de su asno, y cuando llegó halló que no se podía menear: tal fue el golpe que dio con él Rocinante.
¡Válame Dios! dijo Sancho. ¿No le dije yo a vuestra merced que mirase bien lo que hacía, que no eran sino molinos de viento, y no lo podía ignorar sino quien llevase otros tales en la cabeza?”
Calla, amigo Sancho, respondió don Quijote; que las cosas de la guerra, más que otras, están sujetas a continua mudanza; cuanto más, que yo pienso, y es así verdad, que aquel sabio Frestón que me robó el aposento y los libros ha vuelto estos gigantes en molinos por quitarme la gloria de su vencimiento: tal es la enemistad que me tiene; mas al cabo al cabo, han de poder poco sus malas artes contra la bondad de mi espada.”
Dios lo haga como puede, respondió Sancho Panza.
Y, ayudándole a levantar, tornó a subir sobre Rocinante, que medio despaldado estaba. Y, hablando en la pasada aventura, siguieron el camino del Puerto Lápice, porque allí decía don Quijote que no era posible dejar de hallarse muchas y diversas aventuras, por ser lugar muy pasajero, sino que iba muy pesaroso por haberle faltado la lanza; y, diciéndoselo a su escudero, le dijo:
Yo me acuerdo haber leído que un caballero español, llamado Diego Pérez de Vargas, habiéndosele en una batalla roto la espada, desgajó de una encina un pesado ramo o tronco, y con él hizo tales cosas aquel día, y machacó tantos moros, que le quedó por sobrenombre Machuca, y así él como sus descendientes se llamaron desde aquel día en adelante Vargas y Machuca. Hete dicho esto porque de la primera encina o roble que se me depare pienso desgajar otro tronco tal y tan bueno como aquél que me imagino; y pienso hacer con él tales hazañas, que tú te tengas por bien afortunado de haber merecido venir a vellas y a ser testigo de cosas que apenas podrán ser creídas.”
A la mano de Dios, dijo Sancho, yo lo creo todo así como vuestra merced lo dice; pero enderécese un poco, que parece que va de medio lado, y debe de ser del molimiento de la caída.”
Así es la verdad, respondió don Quijote; y si no me quejo del dolor, es porque no es dado a los caballeros andantes quejarse de herida alguna, aunque se le salgan las tripas por ella.”
Si eso es así, no tengo yo qué replicar, respondió Sancho; pero sabe Dios si yo me holgara que vuestra merced se quejara cuando alguna cosa le doliera. De mí sé decir que me he de quejar del más pequeño dolor que tenga, si ya no se entiende también con los escuderos de los caballeros andantes eso del no quejarse.”
No se dejó de reír don Quijote de la simplicidad de su escudero; y así, le declaró que podía muy bien quejarse como y cuando quisiese, sin gana o con ella; que hasta entonces no había leído cosa en contrario en la orden de caballería. Díjole Sancho que mirase que era hora de comer. Respondióle su amo que por entonces no le hacía menester; que comiese él cuando se le antojase. Con esta licencia, se acomodó Sancho lo mejor que pudo sobre su jumento, y sacando de las alforjas lo que en ellas había puesto, iba caminando y comiendo detrás de su amo muy de su espacio, y de cuando en cuando empinaba la bota, con tanto gusto, que le pudiera envidiar el más regalado bodegonero de Málaga. Y en tanto que él iba de aquella manera menudeando tragos, no se le acordaba de ninguna promesa que su amo le hubiese hecho, ni tenía por ningún trabajo, sino por mucho descanso, andar buscando las aventuras, por peligrosas que fuesen. . . .
Don Quijote, Volume 1 (1605)
At this point they caught sight of thirty or forty windmills which were standing on the plain there, and no sooner had Don Quixote laid eyes upon them than he turned to his squire and said, Fortune is guiding our affairs better than we could have wished; for you see there before you, friend Sancho Panza, some thirty or more lawless giants which whom I mean to do battle. I shall deprive them of their lives, and with the spoils from this encounter we shall begin to enrich ourselves, for this is righteous warfare, and it is a great service to God to remove so accursed a breed from the face of the earth.
What giants? said Sancho Panza.
Those that you see there, replied his master, those with the long arms some of which are as much as two leagues in length.
But look, your Grace, those are not giants but windmills, and what appear to be arms are their wings which, when whirled in the breeze, cause the millstone to go.
It is plain to be seen, said Don Quixote, that you have had little experience in this matter of adventures. If you are afraid, go off to one side and say your prayers while I am engaging them in fierce, unequal combat.
Saying this, he gave spurs to his steed Rocinante, without paying any heed to Sanchos warning that these were truly windmills and not giants that he was riding forth to attack. Nor even when he was close upon them did he perceive what they really were, but shouted at the top of his lungs, Do not seek to flee, cowards and vile creatures that you are, for it is but a single knight with whom you have to deal!
At that moment a little wind came up and the big wings began turning.
Though you flourish as many arms as did the giant Briareus, said Don Quixote when he perceived this, you still shall have to answer to me.
He thereupon commended himself with all his heart to his lady Dulcinea, beseeching her to succor him in this peril; and, being well covered with his shield and with his lance at rest, he bore down upon them at a full gallop and fell upon the first mill that stood in his way, giving a thrust at the wing, which was whirling at such a speed that his lance was broken into bits and both horse and horseman went rolling over the plain, very much battered indeed. Sancho upon his donkey came hurrying to his masters assistance as fast as he could, but when he reached the spot, the knight was unable to move, so great was the shock with which he and Rocinante had hit the ground.
God help us! exclaimed Sancho, did I not tell your Grace to look well, that those were nothing but windmills, a fact which no one could fail to see unless he had other mills of the same sort in his head?
Be quiet, friend Sancho, said Don Quixote. Such are the fortunes of war, which more than any other are subject to constant change. What is more, when I come to think of it, I am sure that this must be the work of that magician Frestón, the one who robbed me of my study and my books, and who has thus changed the giants into windmills in order to deprive me of the glory of overcoming them, so great is the enmity that he bears me; but in the end his evil arts shall not prevail against this trusty sword of mine.
May Gods will be done, was Sancho Panzas response. And with the aid of his squire the knight was once more mounted on Rocinante, who stood there with one shoulder half out of joint. And so, speaking of the adventure that had just befallen them, they continued along the Puerto Lápice highway; for there, Don Quixote said, they could not fail to find many and varied adventures, this being a much traveled thoroughfare. The only thing was, the knight was exceedingly downcast over the loss of his lance.
I remember, he said to his squire, having read of a Spanish knight by the name of Diego Pérez de Vargas, who, having broken his sword in battle, tore from an oak a heavy bough or branch and with it did such feats of valor that day, and pounded so many Moors, that he came to be known as Machuca, and he and his descendants from that day forth have been called Vargas y Machuca. I tell you this because I too intend to provide myself with just such a bough as the one he wielded, and with it I propose to do such exploits that you shall deem yourself fortunate to have been found worthy to come with me and behold and witness things that are almost beyond belief.
Gods will be done, said Sancho. I believe everything that your Grace says; but straighten yourself up in the saddle a little, for you seem to be slipping down on one side, owing, no doubt, to the shaking-up that you received in your fall.
Ah, that is the truth, replied Don Quixote, and if I do not speak of my sufferings, it is for the reason that it is not permitted knights-errant to complain of any wound whatsoever, even though their bowels may be dropping out.
If that is the way it is, said Sancho, I have nothing more to say; but, God knows, it would suit me better if your Grace did complain when something hurts him. I can assure you that I mean to do so, over the least little thing that ails me that is, unless the same rule applies to squires as well.
Don Quixote laughed long and heartily over Sanchos simplicity, telling him that he might complain as much as he liked and where and when he liked, whether he had good cause or not; for he had read nothing to the contrary in the ordinances of chivalry. Sancho then called his masters attention to the fact that it was time to eat. The knight replied that he himself had no need of food at the moment, but his squire might eat whenever he chose. Having been granted this permission, Sancho seated himself as best he could upon his beast, and, taking out from his saddlebags the provisions that he had stored there, he rode along leisurely behind his master, munching his victuals and taking a good, hearty swig now and then at the leather flask in a manner that might well have caused the biggest-bellied tavernkeeper of Málaga to envy him. Between draughts he gave not so much as a thought to any promise that his master might have made him, nor did he look upon it as any hardship, but rather as good sport, to go in quest of adventures however hazardous they might be. . . .
Translated by Samuel Putnam (1949)
Just then they came in sight of thirty or forty windmills that rise from that plain, and no sooner did Don Quixote see them than he said to his squire: Fortune is guiding our affairs better than we ourselves could have wished. Do you see over yonder, friend Sancho, thirty or forty hulking giants? I intend to do battle with them and slay them. With their spoils we shall begin to be rich, for this is a righteous war and the removal of so foul a brood from off the face of the earth is a service God will bless.
What giants? asked Sancho Panza.
Those you see over there, replied his master, with their long arms; some of them have well-nigh two leagues in length.
Take care, sir, cried Sancho. Those over there are not giants but windmills, and those things that seem to be arms are their sails, which when they are whirled around by the wind turn the millstone.
It is clear, replied Don Quixote, that you are not experienced in adventures. Those are giants, and if you are afraid, turn aside and pray whilst I enter into fierce and unequal battle with them.
Uttering those words, he clapped spurs to Rozinante, his steed, without heeding the cries of his squire, Sancho, who warned him that he was not going to attack giants but windmills. But so convinced was he that they were giants that he neither heard his squires shouts nor did he notice what they were, though he was very near them. Instead, he rushed on, shouting in a loud voice: Fly not, cowards and vile caitiffs; one knight alone attacks you! At that moment a slight breeze arose and the great sails began to move. When Don Quixote saw this, he shouted again: Although you flourish more arms that the giant Briareus, you shall pay for it!
Saying this and commending himself most devoutly to his lady, Dulcinea, whom he begged to help him in this peril, he covered himself with his buckler, couched his lance, charged at Rozinantes full gallop and rammed the first mill in his way. He ran his lance into the sail, but the wind twisted it with such violence that it shivered the lance in pieces and dragged both rider and horse after it, rolling them over and over on the ground, sorely damaged.
Sancho Panza rushed up to his assistance as fast as his ass could gallop, and when he reached the knight, he found that he was unable to move, such was the blow that Rozinante had given him in the fall.
God help us! cried Sancho. Did I not tell you, sir, to mind what you were doing, for those were only windmills? Nobody could have mistaken them unless he had windmills in his brain.
Hold your peace, good Sancho, answered Don Quixote. The affairs of war are, above all others, subject to continual change. Moreover, I am convinced, and that is the truth, that the magician Frestón, the one who robbed me of my study and books, has changed those giants into windmills to deprive me of the glory of victory; such is the enmity he bears against me. But in the end his evil arts will be of little avail against my doughty sword.
God settle it His own way, cried Sancho as he helped his master to rise and remount Rozinante, who was well-nigh disjointed by his fall.
They conversed about the recent adventure as they followed the road toward the Pass of Lápice, for there, Don Quixote said, they could not fail to find many and various adventures, seeing that it was a much frequented spot. Nevertheless he was very downcast at the loss of his lance, and in mentioning it to his squire, he said: I remember having read of a Spanish knight called Diego Pérez de Vargas, who, when he broke his sword in a battle, tore off a huge branch from an oak and with it did such deeds of prowess that day and pounded so many Moors that he earned the surname of Machuca, and so he and his descendants were called from that day onwards Vargas y Machuca. I mention this because I intend to tear from the first oak tree we meet such a branch, with which I am resolved to perform such deeds that you will consider yourself fortunate to witness, exploits that men will scarcely credit.
Gods will be done, said Sancho. Ill believe all your worship says; but straighten yourself a bit in the saddle, for you seem to be leaning over on one side, which must be from the bruises you received in your fall.
That is true, replied Don Quixote, and if I do not complain, it is because knights-errant must never complain of any wound, even though their guts are protruding from them.
If that be so, Ive no more to say, answered Sancho, but God knows, Id be glad to hear you complain when anything hurts you. As for myself, Ill never fail to complain at the smallest twinge, unless this business of not complaining applies also to squires.
Don Quixote could not help laughing at the simplicity of his squire and told him that he might complain whenever he pleased and to his hearts content, for he had never read anything to the contrary in the order of chivalry. Sancho then bade his master consider that it was now time to eat, but the latter told him to eat whenever he fancied. As for himself, he had no appetite at the moment. Sancho so sooner had obtained leave than he settled himself as comfortably as he could upon his ass, and taking out of his saddlebags some of the contents, he jogged behind his master, munching deliberately; and every now and then he would take a stiff pull at the wineskin with such gusto that the ruddiest tapster in Málaga would have envied him. While he rode on, swilling away in that manner, he did not remember any promise his master might have made to him, and so far from thinking it a labor, he thought it a life of ease to go roaming in quest of adventures, no matter how perilous they might be. . . .
Translated by Walter Starkie (1964)
Just then, they came upon thirty or forty windmills, which (as it happens) stand in the fields of Montiel, and as soon as Don Quijote saw them he said to his squire:
Destiny guides our fortunes more favorably than we could have expected. Look there, Sancho Panza, my friend, and see those thirty or so wild giants, with whom I intend to do battle and to kill each and all of them, so with their stolen booty we can begin to enrich ourselves. This is noble, righteous warfare, for it is wonderfully useful to God to have such an evil race wiped from the face of the earth.
What giants? asked Sancho Panza. “The ones you can see over there, answered his master, with the huge arms, some of which are very nearly two leagues long.
Now look, your grace, said Sancho, what you see over there arent giants, but windmills, and what seem to be arms are just their sails, that go around in the wind and turn the millstone.
Obviously, replied Don Quijote, “you dont know much about adventures. Those are giants and if youre frightened, take yourself away from here and say your prayers, while I go charging into savage and unequal combat with them.
Saying which, he spurred his horse, Rocinante, paying no attention to the shouts of Sancho Panza, his squire, warning him that without any question it was windmills and not giants he was going to attack. So utterly convinced was he they were giants, indeed, that he neither heard Sanchos cries nor noticed, close as he was, what they really were, but charged on, crying:
Flee not, oh cowards and dastardly creatures, for he who attacks you is a knight alone and unaccompanied.
Just then the wind blew up a bit, and the great sails began to stir, which Don Quijote saw and cried out:
Even should you shake more arms than the giant Briareus himself, youll still have to deal with me.
As he said this, he entrusted himself with all his heart to his lady Dulcinea, imploring her to help and sustain him at such a critical moment, and then, with his shield held high and his spear braced in its socket, and Rocinante at a full gallop, he charged directly at the first windmill he came to, just as a sudden swift gust of wind sent its sail swinging hard around, smashing the spear to bits and sweeping up the knight and his horse, tumbling them all battered and bruised to the ground. Sancho Panza came rushing to his aid, as fast as his donkey could run, but when he got to his master, found him unable to move, such a blow had he been given by the falling horse.
God help me! said Sancho. Didnt I tell your grace to be careful what you did, that these were just windmills, and anyone who could ignore that had to have windmills in his head?
Silence, Sancho, my friend, answered Don Quijote. Even more than other things, war is subject to perpetual change. Whats more, I think the truth is that the same Frestón the magician, who stole away my room and my books, transformed these giants into windmills, in order to deprive me of the glory of vanquishing them, so bitter is his hatred of me. But in the end, his evil tricks will have little power against my good sword.
Gods will he done, answered Sancho Panza.
Then, helping his master to his feet, he got him back up on Rocinante, whose shoulder was half dislocated. After which, discussing the adventure theyd just experienced, they followed the road toward Lápice Pass, for there, said Don Quijote, they couldnt fail to find adventures of all kinds, it being a well-traveled highway. But having lost his lance, he went along very sorrowfully, as he admitted to his squire, saying:
I remember having read that a certain Spanish knight named Diego Pérez de Vargas, having lost his sword while fighting in a lost cause, pulled a thick bough, or a stem, off an oak tree, and did such things with it, that day, clubbing down so many Moors that ever afterwards they nicknamed him Machuca [Clubber], and indeed from that day on he and all his descendants bore the name Vargas y Machuca. I tell you this because, the first oak tree I come to, I plan to pull off a branch like that, one every bit as good as the huge stick I can see in my mind, and I propose to perform such deeds with it that youll be thinking yourself blessed, having the opportunity to see them, and being a living witness to events that might otherwise be unbelievable.
Its in Gods hands, said Sancho. I believe everything is exactly the way our grace says it is. But maybe you could sit a little straighter, because you seem to be leaning to one side, which must be because of the great fall you took.
True, answered Don Quijote, and if I dont say anything about the pain its because knights errant are never supposed to complain about a wound, even if their guts are leaking through it.
If thats how its supposed to be, replied Sancho, Ive got nothing to say. But Lord knows Id rather your grace told me, any time something hurts you. Me, Ive got to groan, even if its the smallest little pain, unless that rule about knights errant not complaining includes squires, too.
Don Quijote couldnt help laughing at his squires simplicity, and cheerfully assured him he could certainly complain any time he felt like it, voluntarily or involuntarily, since in all his reading about knighthood and chivalry hed never come across anything to the contrary. Sancho said he thought it was dinner-time. His master replied that, for the moment, he himself had no need of food, but Sancho should eat whenever he wanted to. Granted this permission, Sancho made himself as comfortable as he could while jogging along on his donkey and, taking out of his saddlebags what he had put in them, began eating as he rode, falling back a good bit behind his master, and from time to time tilting up his wineskin with a pleasure so intense that the fanciest barman in Málaga might have envied him. And as he rode along like this, gulping quietly away, none of the promises his master had made were on his mind, nor did he feel in the least troubled or afflicted in fact, he was thoroughly relaxed about this adventure-hunting business, no matter how dangerous it was supposed to be. . . .
Translated by Burton Raffel (1999)
As they were talking, they saw thirty or forty of the windmills found in that countryside, and as soon as Don Quixote caught sight of them, he said to his squire:
Good fortune is guiding our affairs better than we could have desired, for there you see, friend Sancho Panza, thirty or more enormous giants with whom I intend to do battle and whose lives I intend to take, and with the spoils we shall begin to grow rich, for this is righteous warfare, and it is a great service to God to remove so evil a breed from the face of the earth.
What giants? said Sancho Panza.
Those you see over there, replied his master, with the long arms; sometimes they are almost two leagues long.
Look, your grace, Sancho responded, those things that appear over there arent giants but windmills, and what looks like their arms are the sails that are turned by the wind and make the grindstone move.
It seems clear to me, replied Don Quixote, that thou art not well versed in the matter of adventures: these are giants; and if thou art afraid, move aside and start to pray whilst I enter with them in fierce and unequal combat.
And having said this, he spurred his horse, Rocinante, paying no attention to the shouts of his squire, Sancho, who warned him that, beyond any doubt, those things he was about to attack were windmills and not giants. But he was so convinced they were giants that he did not hear the shouts of his squire, Sancho, and could not see, though he was very close, what they really were; instead, he charged, and called out:
Flee not, cowards and base creatures, for it is a single knight who attacks you.
Just then a gust of wind began to blow, and the great sails began to move, and, seeing this, Don Quixote said:
Even if you move more arms than the giant Briareus, you will answer to me.
And saying this, and commending himself with all his heart to his lady Dulcinea, asking that she come to his aid at this critical moment, and well-protected by his shield, with his lance in his socket, he charged at Rocinantes full gallop and attacked the first mill he came to; and as he thrust his lance into the sail, the wind moved it with so much force that it broke the lance into pieces and picked up the horse and the knight, who then dropped to the ground and were very badly battered. Sancho Panza hurried to help as fast as his donkey could carry him, and when he reached them he discovered that Don Quixote could not move because he had taken so hard a fall with Rocinante.
God save me! said Sancho. Didnt I tell your grace to watch what you were doing, that these were nothing but windmills, and only somebody whose head was full of them wouldnt know that?
Be quiet, Sancho my friend, replied Don Quixote. Matters of war, more than any others, are subject to continual change; moreover, I think, and therefore it is true, that the same Frestón the Wise who stole my room and my books has turned these giants into windmills in order to deprive me of the glory of defeating them: such is the enmity he feels for me; but in the end, his evil arts will not prevail against the power of my virtuous sword.
Gods will be done, replied Sancho Panza.
He helped him to stand, and Don Quixote remounted Rocinante, whose back was almost broken. And, talking about their recent adventure, they continued on the road to Puerto Lápice, because there, said Don Quixote, he could not fail to find many diverse adventures since it was a very heavily trafficked place; but he rode heavyhearted because he did not have his lance; and expressing this to his squire, he said:
I remember reading that a Spanish knight named Diego Pérez de Vargas, whose sword broke in battle, tore a heavy bough or branch from an oak tree and with it did such great deeds that day, and thrashed so many Moors, that he was called Machuca, the Bruiser, and from that day forward he and his descendants were named Vargas y Machuca. I have told you this because from the first oak that presents itself to me I intend to tear off another branch as good as the one I have in mind, and with it I shall do such great deeds that you will consider yourself fortunate for deserving to see them and for being a witness to things that can hardly be believed.
Its in Gods hands, said Sancho. I believe everything your grace says, but sit a little straighter, it looks like youre tilting, it must be from the battering you took when you fell.
That is true, replied Don Quixote, and if I do not complain about the pain, it is because it is not the custom of knights errant to complain about any wound, even if their innards are spilling out because of it.
If thats true, I have nothing to say, Sancho responded, but God knows Id be happy if your grace complained when something hurt you. As for me, I can say that Ill complain about the smallest pain I have, unless what you said about not complaining also applies to the squires of knights errant.
Don Quixote could not help laughing at his squires simplemindedness; and so he declared that he could certainly complain however and whenever he wanted, with or without cause, for as yet he had not read anything to the contrary in the order of chivalry. Sancho said that it was time to eat. His master replied that he felt no need of food at the moment, but that Sancho could eat whenever he wished. With this permission, Sancho made himself as comfortable as he could on his donkey, and after taking out of the saddlebags what he had put into them, he rode behind his master at a leisurely pace, eating and, from time to time, tilting back the wineskin with so much gusto that the most self-indulgent tavern-keeper in Málaga might have envied him. And as he rode along in that manner, taking frequent drinks, he did not think about any promises his master had made to him, and he did not consider it work but sheer pleasure to go around seeking adventures, no matter how dangerous they might be. . . .
Translated by Edith Grossman (2003)
Four translations of the first part of Chapter 8 in Volume 1 of Miguel de Cervantess Don Quixote (1605).
[Passages from other recommended works]
[Gateway to the Vast Realms]
[Rexroth essay on Don Quixote]
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