Here upon a lonely day,
draped in vast miscellany,
an inkling all of vision's edge
crossed into a churning sea.
A drop from in my grasp did slip.
In it's reflection, ever bright,
there shines a tiny crystal lamp
glistening with a tiny light.
*tearing sound as he tries to rip the page out.*
((He was just trying to ask why everyone's
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Comments 21
Who pours forth such poetic words
It would seem that many are so implored
To speak with the beauty of birds.
((Translation: At least I'm not the only one writing ballads here.))
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from the trembling touch of fate
This budding flower, this fragrant wind
carry here a heavenly state
((translation: I hope this ends soon.))
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But here's to hopes that the end
Will come and these words will fall
And damage done we can mend.
((translation: Indeed.))
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The parchment that you touch reveals such an unearthly beauty, resembling my own...!
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If thunder steals our lips of sound,
Shall we again find our ease?
Shall we again find solid ground?
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Little yet may stay my hand.
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For simple love to have no name.
[trans: You too, huh?]
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beyond the river running may
One day blossom into dawn
And bring upon us Apollo's rays.
[translation: Unfortunately.]
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And then comes light and day!
[trans: Hopefully it will pass soon.]
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Angels carried from the sky
Their wings vast, and dyed of clouds
Echo every mortal hour
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