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In a hollow of winter in spring,
Night descends releasing snow without a sound A trinity of deer leaps down the hill like music In graceful arcs past sculpted bushes, over the lawn under the palace lights The wisdom of pines, Branches heavy with men's wars, manifests in stillness What is our word? From the gut of night you reply, peace, No, peacefulness. On a walk in Drottningholm Park on the evening of 8 April 2022.
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