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Anonymous
My local gym is a place called Malebolge, Wholly of stone and of an iron colour, As is the circle that around it turns. Right in the middle of the field malign There yawns a well exceeding wide and deep, Of which its place the structure will recount. Round, then, is that enclosure which remains Between the well and foot of the high, hard bank, And has distinct in valleys ten its bottom. As where for the protection of the walls Many and many moats surround the castles, The part in which they are a figure forms, Just such an image those presented there; And as about such strongholds from their gates Unto the outer bank are little bridges, So from the precipice's base did crags Project, which intersected dikes and moats, Unto the well that truncates and collects them.
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