
Dusk unfolds its curtain
On one side of the stage
The air loses its light
A shooting star comes,
Curves the edge
of the remaining sunlight
One does not refuse
the evasion of the night
For the night always
waves the painting brush
Showering light

Dusk unfolds its curtain
On one side of the stage
The air loses its light
A shooting star comes,
Curves the edge
of the remaining sunlight
One does not refuse
the evasion of the night
For the night always
waves the painting brush
Showering light
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