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In the plains of the Netherlands,
which are as flat
as can ever be imagined,
as their only montains
the dikes,
the cranes, the mills,
the buildings and bridges
scrape the sky
from far away,
from very, very far away...

The deaf, majestic
uproar
of the clouds
drowns everything,
now in black ink,
now in grey,
now in the rare sparkling
of the
half hidden,
half shining
sun.

There's peace -
except in the sky...