...and the waves sighed helpless
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as the shore devoured them
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the clouds which adorned the sky
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so dark but beatyful
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every stone, every stem
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is all part of a picture
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together they weave on the beholder
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who takes the nature in and comprehend it
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but this picture is different from human-eye to human-eye
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though it will always be the same
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bewitch me the perfume of a withered rose
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which is actually dead but the perfume (and the beauty) are steady
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though it changes please or shock the human mind
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a withered rose often in connection with grief
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the withering so we say it is the end
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but everything can fade away the love the pain...
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so we say that the withering is loosen from all spheres
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and it's just a cover which hides the life in it's being
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but in any form the being is constant
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though it is often or eternal only the rememberance
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but the only true grief is not the withering
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it is that rememberances fall to pieces too...
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Perfume Of Withered Roses
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Lacrimas Profundere |