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Poet

Поэт

I heard from the garden a woman singing,
But I… I gazed at the moon.

My thoughts never wondered about that woman —
Since I fell in love with the moon.

No stranger am I to the beautiful goddess —
I do sense her gaze in return.

And neither tree branches or bats in the darkness
Will ever conceal me from her.

She likes her reflection in eyes of the poets,
Who have long forgotten their wives.

They look like the glittering scales of the dragons —
The hallowed bards of the seas.


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