Paradise lost
In the evening a frog in the pool squeezes
That is him slowly tearing a paper of the letter
Which was long time waiting for a reader
About the tempers of the spring breeze
The toad of the moon fell into the night
Alike the moonlights smoothly dumping water
For pursuing a company to the lonely spirit
Warm and tender
The evening is dark and cold for sorrow
Allowing tears no longer waiting for a breath
Touching out the temper of the spring breeze
As Soft and quiet as a quiet lady of dews
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