Stranger from a distant land's image
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If it is over it was a wish

If it is not over it is a dream

Either way,

If it is meant to be mine

It will come back to me.

Long have the welling waters receded,

To make way for the freshness ot spring.

Now that the flowers have lost their fragrance,

And the cuckoo bird rarely calls

I know not if the wait is over.

Yet the stars play music

Rolling in the sky

And the shooting star keeps falling

To delight in fancy.

I understand not the roughness of harsh words,

All I wanted was a day for the divine


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