![](https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRwShwdVEWUdj6R-MGJuLYi3QQSjAgN39gkUXYe1Q7T1zBHjU0G_MeWz5OpyvJro6px_5ogvOmJADK59IASARye9IdrY85hkUU9Yl16p2UmscebObQfNtXOxWBg6GddSwi0tDZNRU9QPs/s400/entrance_carnation.jpg)
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A small town
A train stopped on the plain
Deaf stars sleep
in every puddle
And the water trembles
Curtains to the wind
Night hangs in the grove
A lively drizzle
From the flower-covered steeple
Bleeds the stars
Now and then
Ripe hours
Drop on life
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