Glancing out the window one night, I see
hundreds of wanderers — of mine, and of yours;
all are a part of this night, and apart from the daylight.
When all are forks of my one, or many, desires —
what shall I understand from the faces of time?
Glancing out the window one night, I see
hundreds of wanderers — of mine, and of yours;
all are a part of this night, and apart from the daylight.
When all are forks of my one, or many, desires —
what shall I understand from the faces of time?
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