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Who Knows What is Going On

     Who knows what is going on on the other side of each hour?

     How many times the sunrise was
there, behind a mountain!

     How many times the brilliant cloud piling up far off
was already a golden body full of thunder!

     This rose was poison.

     That sword gave life.

     I was thinking of a flowery meadow
at the end of a road,
and found myself in the slough.

     I was thinking of the greatness of what was human,
and found myself in the divine.

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