| Lush emerald the summer color becomes |
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| A Traveler's sleeves fluttered by an autumn wind |
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| Coming to an end and leaving the moon as a keepsake |
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| Missives, fleeting, my lover's only trace |
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| Troubled throughout the year |
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| Dew, scatter if you will |
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| Mists above the crimson leaves |
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| Turning and turning, these summer days, to my regret |
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| For the one I await the path must have ended |
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| More melancholy than the bright moon |
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