Sad Evening
'll Come with the smell of spikes;
When the north Star ignites
The sad evening of "Horan".
The horizon sings a songs.
I do not know, is it a trick of wind or
a bird singing above the fields?
And perhaps what I think
it is a dew pearls,
not but a tears of Swallow,
pecking love and seeds from
sleepers on breast of virgin "Horan".
Oh sad evening "Horan"
How eager to hold to my chest
the warmth tales of jasmine!
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