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Naked body shows under your bright eyes
Those slice my close into star-like pieces
At times designing a map in my breast with your lip and hands
The motherland located on the side of breathy hill
And on the other side of oceanic island, wandering
Who calls it up to come back at once?
The wind of old turns grown from where blowing
You begin to tear after the storm goes away
So longing that you can’t control yourself to people
Sadness with low echoes amid two top mountains
When go home? My smoke rises and you ask it
No one answers; no one casts a message into your deep well
We standing by the bank and surveying
And waiting to pine sail distant for emerging from the sunrise horizon |
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