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On these night fields of pure silence
My feet tread, light and sure, as upon
A homeland’s holy soil from the day
My star led me here.
How loving are the night’s wings! My eye
Discerns every bush here…
He was home from the East, this pilgrim.
He had left to seek a perfumed flower
that Solomon, whose hands grew dark
from constant prayers for beauty,
had planted in the gardens of En Gedi,
fashioned…