I don't want to say my name,
Its nothingness.
Beautiful to me,
To everyone.
But what is it!
If I can't hear,
Your lips speak.
Of me. You see!
Quiet! Silent!
Jealousy.
And yet, the night breeze, I sensed, it became a hurricane in the morning, my dream, in it as though truth itself, is to know that night breeze, as though in romance- to romance the mystery of the hidden truth. For I love the night breeze, which so few yet can sense.
I don't want to say my name,
Its nothingness.
Beautiful to me,
To everyone.
But what is it!
If I can't hear,
Your lips speak.
Of me. You see!
Quiet! Silent!
Jealousy.
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