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This will be the day when the men who watch the house shake in fear. Strong men bow. Those who grind will stop because they are few. And the eyes of those who look through windows will not see well. The doors on the street will be shut when the sound of the grinding is no more. One will rise up at the sound of a bird. All the daughters of song will sing very low. Men will be afraid of a high place and of fears on the road. Flowers will grow on the almond tree. The grasshopper will pull himself along. And desire will be at an end. For man will go to his home that lasts forever, while people filled with sorrow go about in the street.

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