Now it is summer and
across crescent moon light
the mist hangs heavy.
Before the dawning sun
a silent night of time
plays a song of fog.
The world brings no sorrow if
you imagine it akin
to luminous dew.
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Now it is summer and
across crescent moon light
the mist hangs heavy.
Before the dawning sun
a silent night of time
plays a song of fog.
The world brings no sorrow if
you imagine it akin
to luminous dew.
