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No longer does jasmine,Cascading from those creamy-white walls of Jerusalem stone,Scent the night air.Nor do fallen peppercorns,Crushed under foot,Lend their aromatic tang to daytime.There's no longer a garden for a grandfather to water,No longer a place where a grandmother can hang out the washingThat it may be bleached and dried to a crisp by the sun.The cool tiled and shuttered rooms within