I had met you, on the pages of my diary,
Long ago, being unaware of your existence,
You were just like a butterfly,
From afar, I stole glances...
Are you playing with wind? O'friend,
Or you're waiting, for nature's care,
Your blooming beauty, under the sun,
Is playing guitar, with a sublime fun...
Faded twilight, falling leaves,
Touching the earth, a stranger's kiss,
My melody begins, thousand miles to go,
Caressing all, to sleep in peace...
Standing upon, the Westminster,
Daffodil's dance, bird's wings futter,
My science melts, in your aesthetics,
Shakespeare is dead! Why still golden glitters?
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