The Burdens of the Nights Fade With Your Words
This night that helplessly run
On the palm of sleeplessness and boredom
By your presence came to an halt
An angel you are, may I say
Or by me you be called,
The dulcet tune of passion's flute
For in the open field of your words
I find mellow breeze that blows me into another world
Serene, pleasant, undeniably from Elysium fields.
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