Light not a lamp
upon this grave.
In it may perish
little flies.

Plant not a tree
upon this grave.
In it may sit a nightingale
and sing a lamenting song.

Write not an epitaph
upon this grave.
It may not last
In the course of passing winds.

Drop not a tear
upon this grave.
In it lies a living yore,
I am swept into an unknown shore.

Seasons are my friends,
Every spring is an endless cascade .
Here, the passing winds are mine
The dale of love is synonym.

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