He who would drop like snowflakes at harsh winter cold
Others may drop like shooting stars, with a fantastic story told
I may drop like petals from a vermillion rose,
When suddenly across the spring flowery meadow
A wind with a strange moan will blasting cross.
We all perish in the seamless grass,
And at the end no eye could find the place of a lad or lass
Like all creatures in nature devoured erased
If you believe in God on his repeal less list
That can summon every face
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