O read me this riddle:
Night in a strange town
And a strange man’s face.
A woman’s voice in the evening,
Songs of berries and towns.
A flower blows in the hedge.
It is like a bell to me,
Who am I?—
A mystic.
A woman’s voice, a flower,
The moon is a cold, lost star,
I am a cold, lost star:
My heart aches in the deep.
A bell, a woman’s voice—
Who am I?

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