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There is nothing like day of April
when your zeal overheats the lotus Mangolia
so that the petals of my passion come and go so fast
There is nothing like night of May
when your overcast frosts the grass
of those soft blades of my new directions
There are those flowers of summer rain
blooming at their splashes of your heart
I could not possibly harvest right then
And those winter flowers
that could either be your pureness or your coolness
I could only be at awe in those moments
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