On the prewinter-frost injury,
A lotus-bud blooms no more;
It gets no honey for the bee.
With a sweet season please arrive,
Your full-fledged banner riding high.
Yes, let that fly upon the sky,
A gentle wind neath the moonlight.
You alone perceive life's feelings;
At heart's core a beat You bring.
In distillation of that rhythm only,
Borders blend with Supreme Being.
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I understand nothing, nothing I feel; but let my heart beat with Thee.
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