If you know the truth of love
You will begin to love
If you know the flower's smell
You will grow in deserts
Even in deserts
If you tasted a drop of sorrow
You will never hurt me
Life goes through the mountain bangles
Tree leaves, roaring heart angles
Birds swing, make ring
Happy.. sorrow.. My heart intermingles
Are you going to make a pyramid
To hide a love of summer-mid
hid, shattered and withered
Like a flower bud
Picture - Alphonse Mucha, Czech, 1860 - 1939
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