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White air
A dark kind of brighness
Everything draped
in a cloud-woven shroud
Of heavy mist
Amber fires are burning
In hawthorn and birch
As I pass close by
The wild moor sings softly
In the still air
Moaning through the stones
Of damp dark walls.
Five fieldfares emerge
Then dissolve
Like the beauty
Of a berceuse
Lightness and darkness
Happy and sad

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