Upon the hill's crest
Amongst the streams of winds
Her wings are spread

Every wisp of air
A sail rustles
Every gust of wind
A cogwheel spins

From fields and valleys
Sacks of grain flow
Delivered and poured
into the through of the mill

The millstones
grind and pulverize
Kernels of views
Grains of echoes
to a fine flour

From the Hebrew by Yanki Tauber

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