Intervention
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Altın Yaprak
My iron-made spring-tree grown rusty;
Her reddish green Asoke-grove flower.
My summer-censured days are dusty;
Deep dark beclouded her onyx bower.
My winding narrow river full of only sand,
Her magical lotus-pond wavy all day long.
I'm in a funk extending my cursed hand,
Lest reduced to ashes her blooming song.
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