Ah, Lovely one, sit close-by.
See the little wings to the east
That flies, to nest on a rustle twig.
It seems her night was far spent
On melodious stress,
That only the stars pierced.
What of you, tawny, encamped one,
Will you not sail or sore past my shore.
One day, dear one, my horizon will be lost
Your sight will search in vain
For in this realm I will be no more.
K.Oni
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