(908) Prati pale tomay deke
Calling You all the time,
So my days went by;
Your reply did not arrive.
My flower's blossom was futile;
All love's nectar, it went dry.
My heart's fragrance dissipated;
The Honeybee, He never came.
The northern wind, blasting over,
In my life, it wakes a shiver.
After it, the mild southern wind,
Why did it never appear?
My night's waiting for moonlight,
It was to always abide.
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And still I wait for Thee.
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