Summer
The evening of summer
Near the fountain with cool breeze,
When a sweet, pleasant
Song of a girl appears from a distance,
There is no season such
Romanticism can bring.
When nights are hot and sticky,
The moon hides behind the clouds
I watch her silhouette sway
As a summer breeze blows.
When the wind sweeps the
Broad forest in its summer prime,
This time I want my beloved
Like midnight fragrant as African air,
I want to play her as harp,
Harmonica, flute or guitar.
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