A carved boat, fading majestically
Warps into the water
With wooden steps an usher to the depths
The cold richness of Kashmir
A machine gun in a rug
The call to prayers
Falls tinnily on more sonerous
Maples
Laps lapse
And the furze of the mountains
Sets spots of dying sun
Against the clouds
A throwing up of light from the
Desperate earth
The sun goes down on Dal Lake
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