Crimson Hymns
P
Persian Nightingale
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White snow
On the eaves,
Crimson hymns
I won’t hum
Not
Behind the doors
I lost
Under a covering
Of frost
Golden memories
Not
Arctic and shivering
Tropic and sweating
I won’t follow you
Not
Blades and bleeding
Thorns and thrilling
I will leave you
Not
Nightingale in the cage
Red rose on the stage
I won’t smell you
Not
2010/1/7
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