To Give to My Wife
Masses of dark moss, earth newly rained on,
tiny drops of cold dew under an autumnish sky:
don't stare at the bright moon, dwelling on the past—
you'll only mar the features of your face, shorten your years.
tiny drops of cold dew under an autumnish sky:
don't stare at the bright moon, dwelling on the past—
you'll only mar the features of your face, shorten your years.
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