Evening here and soon the night
Feeble figure shadowing the light
Pondering poetry,what to write
Too deep for me to tell it’s right
Single lines drops like rain
And my eyes useless till the dawn pain

Sitting here prostrated
This room will fade and flicker
The single lines, the book goes even as I look
Frailed with gloom mist, the birds persist
Turn the page and try to grasp
That I cannot really understand

Flipping pages of books that could support
Nothing at all is coming out of my effort
Autumn mist veils later roses
So I could tell the previous verses
Still pondering poetry what else can I write

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