- ΪףͻȻе˸Уһnice way to end both love and poetry. Ȼֵһʵǵڶʮס齫ڶʮױɵھʮףʫ裬³Ͱүһϵе⣬ַdzmatch:
˵£Լdz
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³ʫˣдôظ⣬ʼձоʼ£е𰢱ֻһȪӳ¡81ķdzãʵӢıȣҸϲ81ķ룬ϧ˹ģоԭġл
20ûֹҲûͷѰ
Endless love without beginning made you sing.
Love bedazzled and made a fool of you.
So often sadness killed you, you got away with it.
You spoke so much of sadness that sadness became you.
ûֹҲûͷѰ̡
·㱻Ū
ģйѵʱ,
˵£Լdz
ʮһ wrote:
100ϫҵʫ
The tides will take my poetry and song,
And carry off the clothes I did not own.
Good and bad, devotion, empty piety --
Moonlight brings and moonlight takes away.
ϫҵʫ裬
Ҳõѡ
õģģֿǼʣ
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