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The wind blows to the south.
    Then it turns to the north.
Around and around it goes.
    It always returns to where it started.
Every stream flows into the ocean.
    But the ocean never gets full.
The streams return
    to the place they came from.
All things are tiresome.
    They are more tiresome than anyone can say.
But our eyes never see enough of anything.
    Our ears never hear enough.

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