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VIEWS
Following a faint, gently rustling wind,
I ran on and on across the field.
I rowed a boat out toward the midnight sea.
The fairies’ festival, hands clapping;
raise the torches, beat the drums!
To sleepy eyes, silver sand;
in grains of sand, a glittering bay
holds a secret cove within.
That wind which leads me into dreams
only breathes in silence.
A momentary rest,
and night gives way to dawn.